THE 

MAID'S 

FORGIVENESS 


-N 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OP 


SAN  DlE«0 


Gerald  MacDonald 

—HIS  BOOK— 


C3 


THE    MAID'S    FORGIVENESS 


By  the  Same  Author 

FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  CHILDREN 

Small  12mo,  cloth,  156  pp.,  $1.00  net 

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CONTENTS 

The  Lost  Prince      The  Hermits 

King  Ithuriel  Christmas  in  Leipsic 

MOFFAT,  YARD  &  Co.,  PUBLISHERS 
31  East  17th  St.,  New  York 


THE 
MAID'S    FORGIVENESS 


BY 

JOHN    JAY    CHAPMAN 


* 


NEW  YORK 

MOFFAT,    YARD    &    CO. 
1908 


COPYRIGHT,  1908,  BY  JOHN  JAY  CHAPMAN 


ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED    BY  THE   AUTHOR 
INCLUDING  RIGHT  OF  STAGE  PRODUCTION 


D.  B.  UPDIKE,  THE  MERRYMOUNT  PRESS,  BOSTON 


SCENE 

THE  CASTLE  OF  MINNEBERG 

Somewhere  near  the  Ardennes  and  the  Rhine 

in  about  the  year  1120 

ACT  I 

SCENE  1.  A  Room  in  the  Castle 
SCENE  2.  The  King's  Chamber 
SCENE  3.  The  Courtyard 

ACT  II 

SCENE  1.  The  Queen's  Chamber 
SCENE  2.  On  the  Ramparts.  Afternoon 
SCENE  3.  The  Same.  Moonlight 

ACT  III 

SCENE  1.  A  Room  in  the  Castle 
SCENE  2.  The  Banquet-Hall 


CHARACTERS 
KING  SIGMUND. 
WOLFRAM,  his  son. 
GASTON,  his  adopted  son. 
PHARAMOND,  an  old  minstrel. 
HINCMAR,  doctor  to  the  King. 
PRINCE  jEcroivs,  Knight  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  special 

Commissioner  of  Justice. 
BREVARIUS  and  ARNOLFO,  doctors  of  law. 
OSWALD,  Captain  of  the  Guard. 
GERARD,  servant  to  Pharamond. 
MARTIN,  servant  to  Hincmar. 
HILDEBRAND,  an  old  soldier. 
EPHRAIM,  an  old  servant. 
DIEDRICK  and  HANS,  servants. 
BERNHARD  and  OTTO,  peasants. 

QUEEN  MARGARET. 
ELFRIDA,  niece  to  the  Queen. 
HEDWIG,  an  old  servant  of  the  Queen's. 
HILDA,  a  maid. 

Soldiers,  Servants,  Clerks,  Officers  of  Justice,  Court  Attendants, 
and  Peasants. 


ACT  I 

SCENE  FIRST 

A  ROOM  IN  THE  CASTLE 

Queen  and  Gaston. 

N.  Be  not  surprised  that  I  have  sent  for  thee. 
Queens  wear  some  jewelled  sorrows  in  their  heart 
More  dear  than  those  that  glitter  on  their  brow. 
Gaston,  thou  art  my  Wolfram's  second  self, 
And  from  his  infancy  hast  been  his  friend. 
Tell  me,  what  makes  my  son  avoid  my  sight? 
This  is  his  birthday;  yet  he  greets  me  not. 
I  scarcely  see  him,  but  he  slinks  away 
Behind  a  barely  civil  "  By  your  leave," 
Leaving  a  glance  I  do  not  like  to  name; 
But,  should  I  meet  it  in  another  eye, 
I  could  but  call  it  hatred. 

Gaston.  Nay,  dear  madam, 

It  is  not  hatred.  T  is  a  kind  of  mood 
Where  many  cloudy  elements  commingle; 
It  is  the  anguish  of  deep-thoughted  youth 
That  swells  in  the  pod.  Thy  Wolfram  is  a  saint; 
But  a  young  eagle  too,  all  claws  and  beak. 
It  frets  him  that  the  world  must  make  a  king 

[  i  3 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Of  him,  who  counts  himself  but  as  a  soul 

Pursuing  truth.  At  times  it  angers  him 

That  your  ambition  should  take  sides  with  the  world 

Against  his  soul.  It  greatly  angers  him 

To  find  himself  impinioned  in  the  flesh 

And  not  discorporate  in  the  universe, 

A  spirit  merely.  Half  in  jest  I  speak, 

Yet  much  in  earnest.  Youth  is  full  of  pain. 

Believe  me,  Wolfram  loves  your  majesty. 

Another  cause  downcasts  him: 

The  long-continued  illness  of  the  king 

Doth  shed  a  natural  gloom  about  the  court; 

And  being  sensitive,  and  very  young, 

He  catches  some  infection  in  the  air. 

A  change  of  air  may  cure  him.  Give  me  leave 

To  take  him  for  a  month  of  careless  travel. 

We  shall  be  back  before  the  lanes  are  green, 

And  bring  in  summer  with  us  when  we  come. 

Queen.  It  is  too  long.  You  must  not  leave  the  court ; 
I  cannot  want  you  for  so  long  a  time. 
You  must  not  leave  me.  Truly,  till  you  spoke 
I  did  not  know  I,  too,  was  something  touched. 
Tell  me  of  the  king. 

He  has  immured  himself,  and  from  his  room 
He  issues  orders  that  disquiet  me. 
[2  ] 


ACT  FIRST 

Gaston.  Have  you  not  heard?  The  king  dismisses 

all, 

Retaining  Hincmar  as  his  only  friend. 
The  rest,  he  says,  conspire  against  his  life. 

Queen.  Hincmar,  the  learned  doctor? 

Gaston.  Doctor,  madam! 

T  is  a  Bavarian  astrologer, 
Who  travelled  hither  counselled  by  the  stars, 
Led  by  the  fame  of  royal  malady. 

Queen.  Indeed,  I  do  remember  his  arrival. 

Gaston.  Yes,  this  intriguing  adept  travels  here, 
Chimes  his  exact  arrival  with  the  stroke 
When  sick  men  turn  to  magic  in  despair. 
Lifting  a  rod  of  personality 
Over  a  nature  troubled  to  its  depths, 
He  makes  himself  the  master.  No  man  may 
Have  audience  except  on  his  prescription. 

Queen.  I  fear  the  prince  may  find  himself  denied 
On  his  petition  to  absent  himself, 
So  close  a  vigilance  begins  to  fall 
On  every  act  and  happening  in  the  castle. 
Elfrida,  my  sweet  niece,  is  turned  away, 
Her  zither  in  her  hand. 

Gaston.  Elfrida  too? 

[3] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Who  with  her  music  soothed  his  griefs  to  sleep, 

That  he  would  send  for  her  to  comfort  him. 
Queen.  I  found  her  sitting  in  the  anteroom, 

Her  heart  and  instrument  alike  unstrung, 

Weeping  alone.  This  cannot  be  endured. 

Gaston,  the  prince  and  you  must  leave  at  once. 

Depart  at  eventide  and  secretly. 

Some  fearful  power  begins  to  operate 

Which  I  have  long  awaited  inwardly. 

The  king's  mind  crumbles;  and  his  towered  strength 

Topples  to  ruin,  while  my  Wolfram's  eyes 

Glass  the  oncoming  storm. 

Myself  have  naught  to  dread,  though  flesh  and  blood 

Dreads  the  unknown.  This  sickness  of  the  king's 

Began  ere  I  was  married.  He  was  then 

Upon  the  great  Crusade,  companioning 

Godfrey  de  Bouillon  to  the  sepulchre. 

But  dost  thou  know  these  things? 

Gaston.  I  know  the  king,  in  following  a  vow — 
Queen.  A  vow  he  ne'er  fulfilled !  The  messengers 

Announcing  his  succession  to  the  throne 

Found  him  at  Wittelsbach,  and  he  returned 

To  make  our  marriage;  leaving,  as  they  said, 

More  than  his  vow  behind. 

Gaston,  we  princes  have  few  confidants. 
[4] 


ACT  FIRST 
Dost  thou  know  more? 

Gaston.  Your  majesty  may  guess 

That  the  affairs  of  kings  are  talked  about, 
The  love  affairs  not  least.  I  give  my  thoughts 
No  licence  to  pursue  such  gossiping. 

Queen.  Gaston,  what  dost  thou  know? 

Gaston.  I  know  there  was 

A  rumour  that  beclouded  his  return, 
Of  some  stray  maid,  or  princess  he  had  won, — 
Some  say  had  married, — in  the  Orient. 

Queen.  Never  had  married,  Gaston !  — married  never ! 
A  Swabian  peasant,  or  Bavarian  girl, 
Whose  name  and  claim  deserved  no  memory, 
Save  such  as  clings  to  a  deserved  regret 
For  passing  error. 

Gaston.  It  is  well,  my  liege. 

Queen.  And  yet  his  conscience  and  his  broken  vow, 
The  glory  of  his  friends,  who  left  their  lives 
Along  the  Danube,  or  who  brought  them  back 
Baptized  in  fame  above  the  reach  of  death, 
Turned  to  his  torture ;  and  in  all  the  grief, 
A  figure  of  forsaken  womanhood 
Still  held  the  virgin's  place.  Mark  you,  I  speak 
Of  things  no  mortal  agony  could  draw 

[5] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

The  mention  of,  nor  ever  has,  either  to  him 
Or  others, — things  I  saw,  felt,  lived, 
Year  after  year  in  this  imprisoned  place. 
Now  is  my  husband  dead,  and  I  may  speak, — 
Dead  to  all  purpose. 

Gaston.  Lady,  what  you  say 

Raises  a  mirror  in  my  memory, 
And  wakes  a  sleeping  serpent  of  suspicion. 
What  if  this  doctor  practise  on  the  king 
Some  ugly  cunning,  holding  over  him 
The  knowledge  of  this  early  mystery  ? 
What  if,  with  drugs  or  charms,  he  terrorize 
To  break  the  hinges  of  the  kingly  mind 
And  get  control  of  the  castle?  T  is  a  guess. 
More  I  '11  not  call  it,  lest  we  run  ahead 
And  make  the  bed  for  sorrow. 

Queen.  But  this  is  horrible! 

Gaston.  Madam,  for  all  our  sakes,  control  yourself. 
Speak  not  so  loud.  These  mortised  corridors 
Carry  a  sound  and  will  not  let  it  die. 
Whispers  have  echoed  here,  to  be  revoiced, 
After  a  thousand  bouts,  in  cries  of  pain. 

Queen.  But  we  must  take  some  action ! 

Gaston.  Act  we  must, 

[6] 


ACT  FIRST 

But  not  upon  the  impulse.  Think,  dear  madam; 

Against  the  undisclosed  powers  of  evil, 

Action  is  impotence.  We  may  be  wrong, — 

We  all  are  overstrained  and  querulous. 

And  as  for  Wolfram's  rudeness — 

Be  with  me,  madam,  when  I  meet  him  next; 

And  if  he  show  a  peevish  disposition, 

I'll  find  occasion  to  be  frank  with  him. 

Walk  in  the  courtyard  half  an  hour  from  now ; 

It  is  a  haunt  he  loves;  I'll  join  you  both. 

Queen.  Indeed  it  is  the  dearest  wish  I  own 
To  come  more  near  my  son.  I  will  attend  you. 

Enter  Ephraim  and  speaks  to  Gaston  in  dumb-show. 

Gaston  (to  Queen).  Your  majesty  remembers  that 
friend  of  the  king's  boyhood,  Pharamond,  who  was 
bred  up  here  in  this  castle  and  was  to  have  been  a 
warrior,  but  that  nature,  who  had  made  him  a  poet, 
showed  her  hand,  and  he  became  a  minstrel?  But  all 
this  was  before  your  majesty's  marriage,  I  think. 

Queen.  Pharamond !  Why  that  name  to  me  is  a  pic 
ture  of  my  husband's  youth.  I  never  saw  him;  and  yet 
he  is  a  part  of  my  mind. 

Gaston.  Well,  madam,  he  has  returned  to  greet  us 
to-day.  Some  of  your  majesty's  people  met  him  in  the 

[7] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

village  and  the  old  ones  gave  him  a  great  welcome.  I 
saw  him  singing  to  them. 

Queen.  We  will  receive  him  at  the  birthday  feast. 
Ephraim,  bid  them  prepare  a  place  for  Pharamond. 

SCENE  SECOND 

THE  KING'S  CHAMBER 

The  King  seated,  Hincmar  standing. 

HINCMAR.  I  greatly  fear  he  may  prove  one  of  them ; 
And  till  our  doubts  are  settled,  't  is  as  well 
To  watch  him  closely. 

King.  Pharamond,  a  spy! 

He  was  the  earliest,  loving'st  friend  I  had. 

Hincmar.  I  say  not  he  is  certainly  a  spy; 
But  that  his  coming  falls  most  strangely  in 
With  all  the  plot  we  know  to  be  on  foot 
Against  your  kingdom  and  the  prince  your  son. 
Have  we  not  found  them  for  some  months  at  work 
In  Mainz,  which  is  a  hot-bed  of  cabal: 
A  secret-scheming  band  of  courtiers 
And  politicians,  heeled  by  men  of  law, 
Whose  aim  and  purpose  is — God  save  our  souls!  — 
To  wrench  this  kingdom  from  its  lawful  line, 

[8] 


ACT  FIRST 

And  get  it  for  themselves?  They  find  a  flaw 
Warping  your  prince's  title,  a  disease 
Beclouding  your  clear  mind;  and  both  defects 
Are  made  the  pretext  for  a  regency. 
Your  majesty  has  seen  the  proofs  of  this. 
Now,  in  the  hour  when  we  expect  from  Mainz 
Some  emissary  from  our  enemies, 
From  Mainz  there  comes  an  early  boyhood's  friend 
(Who  has  not,  be  it  said,  shown  much  devotion 
During  the  years  between)  whose  age  and  speech 
Make  him  the  man  our  news  anticipates, 
Predict  him  to  a  dot.  I  like  it  not. 

King.  But  what,  good  Hincmar,  could  he  wish  of  me  ? 

Hincmar.  Wish!  Praise  the  Lord  for  such  dear  in 
nocence  ! 

Why,  they  need  evidence  to  found  their  suit. 
They  go  to  wrack  in  search  of  evidence 
Of  your  first  marriage. 

King.  Hincmar,  there  is  none. 

Hincmar.  There  must  be  some ;  and  they  would  fish 

it  out, 
Using  this  Pharamond  as  a  likely  hook. 

King:  Thou  art  my  friend,  and  I  have  told  thee  all. 
For  in  the  telling  there  was  much  relief; 

[9] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

And  in  th1  off-putting  of  my  worldly  cares 
On  thy  strong  shoulders,  infinite  comfort,  Hincmar. 
Yet  are  there  thoughts  that  I  have  told  thee  not. 
Thou 'It  not  betray  me? — ah,  I  know  thou'lt  not. 

Hincmar.  What  thoughts,  my  liege?  I  would  not 

urge  myself 

As  a  confessor  to  your  majesty; 
Yet  would  not  thwart  a  motion  of  your  soul, 
Feeling  it  noble.  Many  griefs  take  flight 
Even  in  the  telling.  For  my  loyalty, 
If  this  be  not  established  by  the  past, 
Protest  were  idle.  Use  me  as  you  will. 

King.  I  know  not  if  seclusion  bring  remorse, 
Or  if  remorse,  seclusion ;  but  I  know 
Some  power  is  seeking  me.  I  ward  it  off; 
Yet  comes  the  knock  and  finds  me  powerless. 
Nightly  I  wake  in  terror, — find  myself 
Standing  in  darkness  on  the  parapet 
And  calling  Adelaide.  She  walks  in  me, 
Smiting  the  depths  beneath  the  reach  of  sleep 
With  old  enchantment.  Is  the  past  not  past, 
That  the  lost  chapters  of  the  soul  return 
To  cast  a  question  on  the  actual? 

Hincmar.  This  does  great  credit  to  your  highness' 
heart; 

[   10] 


ACT  FIRST 

Yet  am  I  glad  some  trusty  friend  is  by 

To  guide  you  through  the  mazes  of  the  world ; 

For  this  is  fantasy. 

King.  Was  the  sin  greater  that  I  married  her? — 
That  on  this  marriage  hinges  all  my  thought, 
Drawing  damnation  from  an  act  of  virtue  ? 
Her  gentleness  demanded  nothing  of  me, 
Her  unreproachful  nature  made  no  claim; 
Yet  now,  with  twenty  years  between  the  act, 
The  reclamation  of  her  silent  grief 
O'ertakes  my  soul  and  grips  it  by  the  hand. 

Hincmar.  Nay,  nay,  your  highness  takes  too  much 

to  heart 

An  ancient  error;  and  I  blame  myself 
For  having  waked  the  anguish  of  a  soul 
So  tender.  All  is  past  and  done, 
And,  as  you  say,  unprovable. 

King.  I  see  a  doubled  presence  in  my  house. 
Her  figure  mingles  with  the  sequent  years 
Of  my  overlapping  marriage  with  the  queen, 
And  bids  me  claim  her.  Did  we  not  stand  up 
Before  the  altar  in  the  pilgrims'  church 
While  the  dawn  broke  o^er  green  Bavaria? 
Then  did  we  kneel  together  by  each  shrine 
That  leads  the  mountain  peasant  to  the  cross, 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Making  our  pilgrimage.  T  is  long  ago ; 
Yet  it  assails  me,  Hincmar,  in  the  night. 

Hincmar.  All  you  have  said 
Raises  my  reverence  for  your  highness1  soul, 
Even  to  the  pitch  of  worship.  Yet  I  must 
Remind  you  that  all  this  cannot  be  proved. 

King.  Save  by  confession,  Hincmar, — by  confes 
sion. 

Thou  understandest  not.  The  power  within  me 
Calls  for  a  proclamation  of  my  sin. 

Hincmar.  A  proclamation  from  a  penitent  king! 
A  public  penance!  —  Stay,  your  majesty; 
Give  me  a  moment  to  collect  my  thoughts. 
The  maid  is  dead;  the  circumstance  is  past, 
Yet  burns  in  the  conscience.  It  will  make  you  great, 
And  sanctify  the  sickness  of  these  years, 
Which  dims  your  character  before  the  world. 
A  public  penance !  "T  is  a  blessed  thought. 
I  think,  your  majesty,  I  may  advise  it; 
But  give  me  time  to  think. 

King.  T  is  what  we  need: 

Time  to  be  patient  with  our  obstinate  thoughts. 
The  quietude  you  brought  me  saves  my  life. 
Yet  do  I  need  more  air.  Good  friend,  bethink  you. 

Get  me  an  hour  or  two  beneath  the  stars. 
[   12] 


ACT  FIRST 

Hincmar.  My  very  thought.  To-night  I  '11  change 

the  watch 

And  leave  the  western  ramp  in  solitude, 
Where  you  may  walk  and  breathe  your  thoughts 

towards  God 

As  in  an  oratory.  But  we  must  observe 
Our  regimen.  'T  is  almost  five. 
The  setting  sun  sheds  peace  across  the  world 
And  bids  you  rest.  I  fear  me  I  must  have 
Your  signature  to  Pharamond's  arrest. 
T  is  but  a  line.  (Places  a  paper  on  the  table.) 

King.  Dost  thou  assure  me  this  is  necessary? 

Hincmar.  Not  only  so,  my  lord,  but  very  wise. 
He  shall  be  safely  lodged,  with  no  constraint 
Except  some  circumscription  in  his  walks. 
And  all  the  household  shall  be  satisfied. 
T  is  putting  him  where  he  can  do  no  harm 
Till  our  suspicion  vanish. 

(The  King  is  bending  over  the  paper  reluctantly. 

Hincmar  continues,  aside:) 

This  Pharamond 

Has  somehow  gained  a  knowledge  of  our  plot 
And  comes,  my  cipher  says,  to  warn  the  king. 
It  is  a  desperate  action  to  arrest  him, — 
But  necessary. 

[13] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

(To  King.)  Yes,  your  highness,  necessary. 
(King  signs.  Hincmar  touches  a  bell.  Enter  Oswald. 
Hincmar  places  the  paper  in  Oswald's  hands  and 
points  to  the  signature,  saying  to  Oswald:) 
His  majesty  desires  that  when  I  give 
The  word  you  do  obey  it. 

\0swald  looks Jirst  at  the  paper  and  then  towards 
the  King;  bows  and  exit. 

King.  Thanks,  good  Hincmar; 

Thank  you  enough  I  cannot,  for  the  zeal 
That  you  have  shown  herein  and  everywhere. 

Hincmar.  To  rest,  good  king;  and  may  God  com 
fort  you.  [Exit  King. 
It  must  be  by  confession,  since  no  proof 
Of  this  clandestine  marriage  can  be  had ; 
Though  proofs  are  ample  that  a  child  was  born, 
Of  which  the  king  knows  nothing.  Prove  this  marriage, 
And  throw  the  kingdom  into  chancery: 
Establish  a  long  quest  to  find  the  heir, 
Or  prove  him  lost,  and  in  the  interim 
I  to  be  regent.  So  the  Archbishop  promised; 
And  I  have  means  to  hold  him  to  his  word. 


ACT   FIRST 

SCENE  THIRD 
THE  COURTYARD 

The  Queen,  Elfrida,  Bernhard,  Otto,  and  three  or  four 
Peasants  and  Peasant  Women.  Bernhard  has  a  large 
bundle  of  MS.  in  his  hand  and  Otto  a  big  offering  of 
Jlowers. 

QUEEN.  I  suppose,  Elfrida,  that  it  is  to  celebrate 
Wolfram's  birthday  that  these  good  people  have  come. 

Elfrida.  Yes,  your  majesty.  Otto  brings  the  first 
flowers  of  spring,  and  Bernhard  the  last  fruits  of  his 
muse.  I  could  not  keep  them  out. 

Queen  (to  peasants).  I  thank  you  all,  for  myself 
and  for  the  prince. 

Bernhard.  Rough  things,  your  majesty,  but  from 
the  heart.  It  is  only  a  sort  of  rhymed  prophecy  that 
came  to  me  as  I  was  lying  abed.  It  is  called  "A  Loyal 
Offering;  or,  The  Humble  Devotion  of  Many  Hearts. 
Being  some  few  Verses  in  Praise  of  a  Great  Heir  to  a 
Great  Kingdom ;  and  Signifying  what  may  be  Expected 
from"— 

Otto.  You  should  never  have  put  that  part  in.  Who 
are  you  to  teach  the  prince  what  he  should  be? 

Bernhard.  Why,  that  is  the  very  poetry  of  the 
whole, — the  apotheose, — the  praising  and  prophesying 
[  15] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

part.  But  indeed  the  poem  has  two  parts,  your  ma 
jesty.  When  the  opening  part  closes,  the  closing  part 
opens,  and  then  — 

Otto  (to  Elfridd).  The  flowers  will  wilt  before  he 
has  finished,  my  lady. 

Queen.  We  will  hear  them  immediately.  And  here 
comes  the  prince. 

Enter  Wolfram. 

Wolfram,  it  is  thy  birthday;  and  these  good  people 
have  come  with  their  offerings  to  grace  the  day.  And 
I  have  other  great  news  for  thee.  Pharamond,  the  old 
singer,  has  come  to  pay  us  a  visit, — your  father's  friend 
Pharamond. 

Wolfram.  There  must  always  be  singing.  Good 
morning,  mother.  If  you  shut  it  off  in  the  parlor,  it 
will  resort  in  a  body  to  the  kitchen.  As  for  kings 
and  queens,  they  have  their  pleasures  too, — fighting 
and  the  killing  of  harmless  animals;  family  pride 
and  the  pushing  of  boundaries.  Perhaps,  if  we  knew 
all,  we  should  be  glad  there  was  singing  somewhere. 
What  say  you,  mother? 

Queen.  Why,  my  son,  I  am  glad.  It  is  not  given  to 
man  to  be  merry  always;  and  yet  must  we  welcome 
the  singer. 

[16] 


ACT  FIRST 

Wolfram.  See  now,  mother,  how  custom  rules  you 
in  all  things.  You  would  have  me  greet  the  minstrel 
because  it  is  the  part  of  a  young  prince  to  greet  a 
minstrel.  You  would  have  me  walk  well,  speak  well, 
keep  silence  well,  all  for  the  part's  sake  and  because 
the  world  expects  it  of  us.  I  would  to  God  you  had 
such  a  son  as  I  would  have  made  for  you,  if  I  had  had 
the  commission.  He  should  have  been  a  model  ass, 
mother,  a  perfect  courtier.  Because  I  am  indifferent 
to  the  customs  of  this  three-acre  kingdom,  to  which 
I  am  heir,  you  must  follow  me  with  your  eyes,  and 
wonder  over  my  behaviour.  I  would  I  could  persuade 
you  to  leave  this  hatching  out  of  me ;  to  forget,  neg 
lect,  ignore,  abandon  me.  See  now,  mother,  I  am  a 
man :  it  is  enough. 

During  this  speech  Gaston  has  entered. 

Bernhard.  Shall  I  begin  now,  your  majesties?  It 
will  take  some  few  minutes;  and  I  will  pass  lightly 
over  the  part  which  deals  with  past  history,  and  so 
come  quickly  to  the  bloom  of  the  poem — 

Otto.  Hold  your  mouth,  you  loon !  Cannot  you  see 
their  majesties  are  troubled? 

Wolfram.  What  is  this  mummery  that  you  have 
planned  to  trap  me  with  ?  Otto,  what  is  that  stack  of 

[  17] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

flowers  in  your  hands?  Bernhard,  who  taught  you  to 
write? 

Elfrida.  It  is  a  birthday  offering,  cousin  Wolfram. 
The  queen  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  It  is  a  posy  and 
a  poem  from  the  villagers. 

Gaston  (to  Wolfram).  Come,  come,  Wolfram ;  these 
are  men  and  women. 

Wolfram.  How  did  they  know  it  was  my  birthday  ? 
And  why  should  they  make  it  ridiculous, — when  it 
is  merely  sad?  (To  Otto,  taking  the  flowers.)  I  will  take 
the  flowers  for  my  grave.  (To  Bernhard,  taking  the 
MS.)  And  the  poem — shall  be  buried  with  me. 

Bernhard.  But  it  must  be  read  aloud  to  be  compre 
hended,  my  lord — 

Wolfram  (relenting).  It  shall  be  read  aloud.  (To 
villagers.)  Meet  me,  all  of  you,  at  the  village  inn,  and 
I  will  drink  a  cup  of  wine  with  you.  (Gives  back  the 
flowers  and  the  MS.)  I  will  read  something  aloud  my 
self;  and,  Bernhard,  it  shall  be  five  times  as  foolish  as 
this.  Go;  and  my  thanks  to  you  all.  [Exeunt  villagers .] 
(To  Queen.)  Now,  madam,  what  would  you? 

Queen.  I  would  nothing  with  you,  my  son;  I  did 
not  mean  to  harass  you.  It  was  Gaston  who  told  me 
of  Pharamond.  I  spoke  almost  by  rote;  but  I  will  say 

[18] 


ACT  FIRST 

nothing.  Your  heart  is  kind,  I  know,  except  towards 
me.  I  must  to  my  chamber.  Elfrida,  will  you  come 
with  me?  And,  Gaston,  at  a  later  hour  attend  me. 

Gaston.  I  will,  your  majesty. 

[Exeunt  Queen  and  Elfrida. 
(Aside.}  Such  intercourse 

Poisons  the  quickening  blood  within  the  lungs 
And  makes  each  breath  we  draw  fresh  agony. 
(To  Wolfram.)  Wolfram,  I  cannot  tell  how  my  beliefs 
May  weigh  with  you;  but  on  my  life  and  soul, 
Your  treatment  of  your  mother  gives  me  grief. 
What  has  she  done  that  you  should  petrify, 
With  unexplained  unkindness,  every  act 
Done  in  her  presence  ?  And  what  lord  are  you 
That  you  should  walk  across  another's  soul 
As  if  your  feet  disdained  the  touch  of  it? 
Oft  have  I  wept  a  mother's  early  death, 
Who  lost  me  ere  my  lips  could  speak  her  name; 
But  since  I  see  what  suffering  sons  may  cause, 
I  count  her  blessed  that  she  died  so  soon. 

Wolfram.  What  can  an  orphan  know  of  mother's 

love  ? 

To  tell  the  truth  I  hardly  know  myself 
What  thing  it  is  that  mutinies  within 
Against  the  tedium  of  this  dummy-life 
[  19  ] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Which  mother's  love  and  courtly  etiquette 
Mix  for  my  portion.  I  am  out  of  sorts 
With  doing  rigorous  nothing. 

Gaston.  Nothing  to  do ! 

I  would  I  had  thy  kingdom  for  a  day, 
I'd  show  thee  what!  See,  Wolfram,  I've  my  sword. 
I  '11  hew  my  way  to  honour  in  this  world. 
And  could  it  balk  me,  think  you,  that  a  mother 
Loved  me  too  much,  or  too  distastefully? 

Wolfram.  This  woman  loves  me  not,  but  as  a  cat 
Doth  love  her  kitten,  why? — for  it  is  hers. 
My  soul  she  loves  not,  and  not  understands, 
More  than  she  loved  or  understood  that  man 
Whom  her  ambition  ruined.  It  was  she 
Who  patched  an  ancient  league  to  save  her  crown. 
Because  her  princedom  touched  our  boundaries, 
They  made  a  parchment  marriage  of  the  lands 
And  of  the  royal  lines.  Something  of  late 
Breaks  in  my  heart  to  see  my  father  die. 
Ruined  he  was  ere  we  had  sight  of  him ; 
Ruined,  yet  splendid  in  his  majesty, 
That  cast  the  blame  on  no  one  but  himself. 
Gaston,  hast  thou  observed  my  father  well? 

Gaston.  Indeed,  my  lord,  I  think  I  have  observed 

him. 

[20] 


ACT   FIRST 

Wolfram.  Ay,  but  not  seen  the  fires  of  his  soul, 
That  smoulder  and  break  out  beneath  his  brows 
Across  two  decades  of  dishonoured  life — 
Death,  call  it  rather. 

Gaston.  Nay,  't  is  no  dishonour. 

Wolfram.  What  we  do  think  dishonour  is  dishonour. 
He  was  a  hero  till  she  called  him  back, 
And  were  he  lying  now  at  Antioch, 
Would  be  a  saint  whose  bones  should  cure  disease. 

Gaston.  Many  returned  from  that  great  enterprise 
Who  were  not  saints  nor  martyrs,  and  whose  names 
Have,  since  that  time,  had  little  currency. 

Wolfram.  But  not  like  him,  friend  Gaston,  not  like 

him! 

Many  there  be  in  every  enterprise 
Who  come  because  the  current  sweeps  them  in ; 
But  those  on  whom  a  high  vocation  calls 
Hear  it  in  solitude,  anteriorly. 

Gaston.  How  means  your  lordship? 

Wolfram.  Know'st  thou  of  his  vow  ? 

Did  he  not  stand  before  the  throne  of  God, 
Alone  and  in  the  halo  of  his  youth, 
Transpenetrated  by  the  rays  of  vision 
That  turned  his  very  body  into  sight; 

[21    ] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

And,  as  the  fire  from  the  Creator's  hand 
Came  down  on  his  hearfs  altar,  did  he  not 
Return  it  in  the  wafture  of  his  vow? 

Gaston.  No  doubt  he  did,  my  lord. 

Wolfram.   Hast  thou  considered,  Gaston,  that  a 

vow, — 

Being  a  column  of  transparent  force 
Set  in  the  limbo  betwixt  God  and  man, 
And  drawing  its  gyration  from  the  sky, — 
When  broken,  lets  a  thousand  tempests  loose 
That  rave  forever,  seeking  the  lost  point, 
And  wreck  the  soul  with  grieving? 

Gaston.  Wolfram,  truly, 

Thy  words  I  understand  not;  but  thy  will 
Touches  my  inmost  heart  to  tragedy. 

Wolfram.  Ay,  't  is  the  will  I  speak  of.  Turn  we  now 
From  the  celestial  vigour  of  his  youth, 
And  view  my  father  in  the  petulant  gloom 
Of  a  damp  sick-room,  nursed  by  vulgar  quacks, 
His  mind  and  substance  open  to  the  sack 
Of  animals  that  prey  upon  disease; 
Dying  by  inches,  while  assisting  unfaith 
Prolongs  a  traffic  in  expedients 
That  do  not  reach  the  spot.  I  stand  alone. 

My  mother's  prayers  glance  upward ;  but  her  hope 

[22] 


ACT   FIRST 
Is  aimed  too  near  the  earth. 

Gaston.  What  shall  we  do  ? 

Wolfram.  I  know  not  what  to  do ; 

But  some  controlling  impulse  must  be  followed 
Straight  up  to  heaven.  'T  is  from  the  Absolute 
All  absolution  comes.  O  Gaston,  wilt  thou  help, — 
If  there  be  help  to  save  us  ?  Wilt  thou  swear, 
Even  as  he  swore,  that  if  the  time  shall  come, 
And  if  volition  have  integrity 
To  fix  again  that  column  in  the  sky, 
Thou  It  lend  assistance? 

Gaston.  Wolfram,  I  do  swear. 

What  honour  will  permit  I  swear  to  do, 
Though  it  were  thy  destruction. 

Wolfram.  Give  thy  hand! 

The  words  I  needed  most! 
This  saving  of  ourselves  doth  ruin  us. 
'T  is  an  impoverishment  poured  over  us, 
Even  in  our  cradles,  by  maternal  love, 
Belittling  all  the  prospect  of  our  thought, 
Which  should  be  infinite. 

Gaston.  Nay,  nay,  come  back, 

Nor  disappear  within  your  cloud  of  words. 
Action 's  the  cure.  And  for  the  queen,  beware ! 

The  time  may  come  when  you  upon  your  knees 
[23] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Shall  ask  your  mother's  pardon.  Come,  my  lord; 
A  stranger  waits  his  welcome  of  kind  words 
While  you  do  rant  about  the  infinite. 

Wolfram.  Gaston,  thou  Yt  right. 
Thy  spirit  cures  me  of  an  old  disease, 
And  shows  behind  the  stroke  of  thy  rebuke 
A  sworded  angel.  Courage  is  the  need; 
And  every  virtue  but  a  form  of  courage. 
Seek  we  the  singer. 

Enter  Ephraim,  showing  in  Pharamond. 

Ephraim.  Here  they  are,  Sir  Pharamond. 
Here  is  my  young  master — here  is  KingSigmund's  son. 

Pharamond.  And  as  like  him  as  flame  is  to  fire. 

Wolfram.  Pharamond,  welcome  again  to  Minne- 
berg.  Art  thou  indeed  that  old  playfellow  of  my  fa 
ther's  youth?  Time  was  he  would  talk  of  thee,  and  tell 
of  the  ballads  you  would  ever  be  conning  instead  of 
learning  to  ride.  I  believe  that  in  his  heart  there  is  a 
place  that  has  been  empty  since  you  left, — though 
you  were  but  a  boy.  Welcome,  and  thanks  for  coming. 

Pharamond.  I  am  paid  already  in  seeing  you,  my 
lad.  Your  eyes  are  like  him  enough  to  be  himself. 

Wolfram.  Nay,  they  are  mine  own  eyes.  But  thou 
shalt  see  his,  ere  thou  go.  This  is  Gaston,  my  foster- 
[24] 


ACT  FIRST 

brother.  If  you  love  me,  you  must  love  him;  for  we 
are  so  intertwined  that  we  cannot  tell  which  is  the  tree 
and  which  the  vine. 

Gaston.  Nay,  I  am  the  vine. 

Wolfram.  But  wilt  thou  sing  for  us  ere  thou  go? 

Pharamond.  Indeed  I  will.  What  else  am  I  good  for 
but  to  sing? 

Enter  Elfrida. 

Wolfram.  This  is  Elfrida,  my  mother's  niece.  She 
sings,  herself,  and  plays  on  the  lute. 

Elfrida.  I  heard  that  thou  wast  come,  Pharamond. 
And  wilt  thou  teach  me  songs  ere  thou  go?  For  it  is 
eight  years  since  a  bard  has  come  by  here;  and  all  my 
songs  are  old. 

Pharamond.  Willingly,  my  lady. 

Wolfram.  But  wilt  thou  sing  for  us  now,  Phara 
mond  ?  We  are  all  in  need  of  thee,  and  our  need  cries 
out  and  bids  us  make  thee  sing. 

Pharamond.  But  of  course  I  will  sing. 

Wolfram.  Gaston,  bid  them  tell  the  queen  on  my 
word  to  come  hither.  She  will  love  this  man.  Bid  old 
Hildebrand  come  at  once.  Tell  him  that  Pharamond 
has  come  back  and  is  going  to  sing  us  Roland  at  Ron- 
cevalks. 

[25] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Elfrida.  Not  that,  cousin,  not  that.  Why  should  we 
all  be  set  to  weeping? 

Wolfram.  What  else  have  we  done  in  this  castle 
but  weep?  Tell  Hedwig,  tell  Karl,  that  a  bit  of  the  old 
castle  has  come  back.  Let  them  set  a  chair  here  for 
her  majesty.  (To  Elfrida.)  And,  cousin,  do  thou  sit  on 
a  low  stool  and  listen,  for  this  man  is  a  master.  (To 
Pharamond.)  Nay,  Pharamond,  what  I  have  most  of  all 
in  my  mind  is  my  father's  picture  of  thee  reciting  the 
Song1  of  Roland.  But  we  must  have  a  throng  to  listen, 
or  it  is  nothing.  (Goes  about  giving  orders.) 

Elfrida  (to  Gaston).  The  prince  is  transformed. 
He  has  laid  moping  aside  and  is  grown  into  a  man 
over  night. 

Gaston.  It  is  Pharamond's  coming  that  has  awak 
ened  all  of  us. 

Elfrida.  It  is  that,  and  more  than  that. 

Pharamond  (to  Elfrida).  The  young  prince  has 
won  my  heart  by  resembling  his  father. 

Elfrida.  Nay,  Wolfram  is  the  greater  man.  He  is 
greater  even  than  Gaston  here. 

Pharamond  (draws  Gaston  aside).  It  grieves  me  to 
hear  on  all  hands  that  my  old  friend  is  not  well.  I 
have  already  seen  things  here  that  are  strange.  I  like 

[26] 


ACT  FIRST 

not  to  ask  the  son  so  bluntly  as  I  may  ask  you.  Yet  I  beg 
you  to  find  a  few  moments  for  private  speech  with  me. 
I  come  from  Mainz.  And,  to  be  short,  I  found  there 
a  full-blown  conspiracy  against  the  king  and  his  heir. 
You  have  under  this  roof  an  arch-devil  and  traitor  in 
the  guise  of  a  doctor.  I  have  travelled  day  and  night 
to  reach  you — I  hope,  not  too  late. 

Gaston.  Praise  God  you  have  come!  When  the  sing 
ing  is  over,  I  will  wait  on  you  in  private. 

Elfrida  (to  Gaston).  Pray  Heaven  that  our  merry 
making  do  not  wake  the  doctor;  or  we  shall  all  be  put 
in  guard.  But  hush,  here  comes  the  queen. 

Enter  Queen;  servants  have  been  entering. 

Wolfram.  Mother,  this  is  my  father's  friend  the 
minstrel. 

Queen.  Pharamond,  I  bid  you  heartily  welcome. 
You  have  already  changed  the  air  of  this  country- 
seat.  You  may  judge  for  yourself  that  your  name  is 
not  forgotten.  At  a  word  of  permission,  they  flock. 
But  do  you  sing  for  us  now? 

Pharamond.  Such  is  the  prince's  desire. 

A  chair  is  set  for  the  Queen.  Gaston  and  Elfrida 

group  themselves  on  smaller  benches  or  stools.  The 

old  retainers  stand  about  and  listen. 

[27] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Wolfram.  Set  old  Hildebrand  in  the  front:  he  is 
deaf.  Now,  Pharamond,  what  more  dost  thou  need?  A 
cup  of  wine  for  the  minstrel! 

Pharamond.  Water,  my  lord;  and  bid  my  boy  Ge 
rard  bring  his  viol  and  sit  at  my  feet.  The  old  custom 
demands  it. 

Enter  Gerard;  sits  at  Pharamond 's  feet  and  tunes 
his  instrument.  A  cup  of  water  is  brought.  While 
these  arrangements  are  being  made  Elfrida  and 
Gaston  speak  together. 

Elfrida.  I  dread  this  valley,  Gaston.  In  a  moment 
we  shall  all  be  in  tears.  If  I  step  out  and  avoid  the 
ending,  thou  shalt  say  I  am  sick. 

Gaston.  Yes,  my  lady. 

Elfrida.  But  I  am  not  sick,  Gaston. 

Gaston.  No,  my  lady. 

Elfrida.  Is  it  the  need  of  pleasure,  think  you,  this 
pang  that  runs  about  any  circle  of  listeners  at  the  first 
chords  of  a  song  ?  The  fresh  drops  of  music  fall  upon 
a  great  thirst  in  our  souls.  Everyone  is  athirst,  Gaston. 

Gaston.  Attend  the  music,  my  lady. 

Pharamond  (sings). 

High  stand  the  crags;  dark  dream  the  dales; 
Gray  are  the  rocks  in  the  dreaded  ravine. 

[28] 


ACT  FIRST 

(He  has  no  sooner  begun,  than  a  disturbance  is  heard 
outside  the  door  which  attracts  every  one^s  attention.) 

Martin  (without).  Ay,  but  I  will  come  in !  I  have  a 
message  from  my  master  to  the  queen  that  must  be 
given  instantly. 

Wolfram.  Silence!  The  next  who  whispers  interrup 
tion 
Shall  learn  good  manners  in  the  dungeon  keep. 

Enter  Martin,  pushing  his  way  in.  He  is  small, 
dressed  in  dingy  black,  with  black  skull-cap,  greasy 
face  and  obsequious  manners.  He  kneels  and  holds 
up  a  paper. 

Wolfram.  Who  is  this  inky  devil? 

Hildebrand.  He  is  a  scullion  in  the  devil's  kitchen, 
my  lord.  It  is  the  doctor's  servant. 

Wolfram.  Here,  take  his  paper,  some  of  you ;  and  you, 
Bruno  and  Hildebrand,  do  you  take  him 
And  whip  him  soundly. 

Queen.  No!  good  Wolfram,  no. 

He  did  what  he  was  bid.  Give  me  the  paper. 

(Reads  it  in  silence,  and  hands  it  in  silence  to  Wolfram.) 

Wolfram  (reads). 

"  There  has  come  to  this  castle  one  who  seeks  my  life. 

Let  Pharamond  be  kept  in  guard  till  word  from  me. 

[  29  ]  Sigmund." 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

It  is  my  father's  hand;  but  not  his  mind. 

Httdebrand.  This  is  the  fang  of  the  wolf  that  will 
devour  all  of  us. 

Wolfram.  This  foreign  swine  will  put  our  guests  in 

guard ! 

Great  God,  I  '11  visit  him,  though  he  were  hedged 
With  bars  of  burning  brimstone !  Wait  ye  here. 
I  charge  thee,  Pharamond,  leave  not  thy  seat 
Till  with  my  sword  I  wipe  away  the  stain 
Upon  our  house's  hospitality. 

Queen.  Nay,  nay,  my  Wolfram ;  woe  upon  that  house 
That  stops  a  breach  of  manners  with  a  murder. 
Wolfram!  You  tarnish  your  immortal  soul 
To  have,  at  last,  the  hacked  and  bloody  corpse 
Of  this  apothecary.  Pharamond 
Implores  you  wait  the  outcome  of  the  day. 
He  is  not  hurt;  his  honour  is  not  touched. 

Pharamond.  Indeed  I  do,  my  lord:  I  have  no  honour 
That  can  be  hurt  by  accidental  slights. 
The  king 's  my  friend.  My  coming  to  his  house, 
The  welcome  ye  have  given  me,  the  joy, 
Has  reawakened  every  element 
That  makes  men  happy.  Tis  some  grave  mistake; 
And  we  must  meet  it  with  benevolence. 

What  plot  may  lurk 

[  30] 


ACT  FIRST 

Beneath  this  unexpected  visitation 
None  of  us  knows. 

Gaston.  And  till  we  do,  my  lord, 

Let  us  not  dip  our  fingers  in  hot  blood. 
To  kill  this  quack  would  more  inflame  the  king 
Who  fancies  him  his  saviour. 

Wolfram.  I  submit. 

Hildebrand  (at  the  door).  Your  majesty,  the  doctor 

does  approach. 
Must  I  oppose  his  passage,  or  give  way? 

Queen.  Oppose  in  no  way,  ancient  servitor, 
Aught  that  thy  king  commands.  We  will  receive  him. 

Enter  Hincmar,  followed  by  Oswald  and  four  men- 
at-arms. 

Hincmar.  The  king,  your  majesty,  his  envoy  makes 

me 

To  acquaint  you  with  his  pleasure.  I  fulfil — 
I  do  confess  unwillingly  fulfil — a  needed  office. 

Queen.  To  his  will  we  bow, 

And  do  accept  the  embassy :  speak  on. 

Hincmar.  Madam,  the  king's  amendment  much  de 
pends 

Upon  the  freedom  of  his  mind  from  cares 
Which  do  besiege  him.  Policies  of  state 
[31  ] 


THE   MAID'S    FORGIVENESS 

And  long-protracted  grieving  over  doubts, 
Bound  up  with  memories,  have  undermined — 

Queen  (interrupting).  I  see  not  that  such  diagnosis 

falls 

Within  the  scope  and  bearing  of  your  preface, 
Which  touched,  good  master  doctor,  the  king's  plea 
sure, 
Not  his  disease. 

Hincmar.         Ay,  madam,  'tis  his  pleasure 
To  medicine  his  mind  with  needed  rest. 
It  is  his  pleasure  to  be  undisturbed, 
And  for  the  kingdom's  governance  to  appoint 
A  minister,  whose  back  shall  take  the  brunt 
Of  daily  businesses  and  petty  cares 
Repugnant  to  his  nature  and  condition. 
Tis  his  good  pleasure  to  devolve  on  me 
Much  that  mine  ease  of  heart  might  bid  me  shirk, 
And  my  diviner  studies  contravene, 
Were  not  his  life  at  stake.  He  here  has  writ 
The  sum  of  my  employments,  which  I  give 
By  his  command  into  your  highness'  hand; 
By  his  command  to  ask  you  publish  them 
Condignly  to  all  lesser  ministers. 

{He  hands  a  document  to  the  Queen ;  then  says  to  Os 
wald:) 

[32] 


ACT  FIRST 

Oswald,  the  king  himself  instructed  you. 
Perform  his  will. 

Pharamond.  I  beg  you  all  to  give  no  thought  to 

me, 

Or  my  dilemma.  I  have  scrambled  through 
Many  rough  places  with  his  majesty; 
And  laugh  already  o'er  the  end  of  it.  (To  Oswald.) 

Sir,  I  am  ready. 

[Oswald  arrests  Pharamond,  and  exeunt,  Hinc- 
mar  walking  out  first,  then  Oswald  with  Phara 
mond,  then  the  soldiers. 

Wolfram.  But  that  a  greater  issue  stayed  my  hand, 
I  would  have  killed  him,  mother,  as  he  spoke. 
Amazing  insolence!  He  wears  his  power 
As  if  ambition  were  a  grassy  plume, 
And  his  chain  armour  of  dissimulation, 
A  wreath  of  smoke. 

Gaston.  He  is  no  common  man ; 

A  fact  our  safety  bids  us  reckon  with. 
What  is  his  document  ?  (  Takes  it  and  begins  to  examine 

it.) 

Queen.  Twere  rightly  viewed 

In  more  becoming  leisure.  Break  we  here 
This  gathering.  My  servants  and  my  friends, 
Go,  all  of  you,  about  your  usual  work. 
[33] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Orders  to  everyone  shall  be  assigned. 

The  king  must  be  obeyed.  The  prince  my  son 

Gives  us  a  kingly  sample :  copy  him. 

And  keep  as  close  a  visage  as  ye  can 

Against  all  temper- try  ing  scrutiny. 

Go,  all  of  ye,  at  once.  [Exeunt  /Servants. 

Gaston,  Elfrida, 

Attend  our  further  pleasure.  Wolfram,  my  son, 
I  thank  thee  for  thy  undelivered  stroke; 
And  thank  God,  too,  who  takes  such  strokes  as  that 
Into  his  keeping  for  delivery. 
(To  Gaston.)  What  says  the  document? 

Gaston.  This  paper  makes  him 

Administrator  of  the  king's  estate, 
Legal,  political,  and  military; 
Ecclesiastical  preceptor, — he  to  receive 
Keys  of  all  strongholds,  tables  of  accounts, 
Seals  great  and  small,  the  legal  judgment  rolls, 
The  records  of  taxation — Why,  my  liege, 
This  is  an  abdication,  not  a  writ! 
Send  to  the  emperor:  this  will  not  stand. 
No  feudatory  can  unking  himself 
To  crown  another.  Send  a  messenger 
To  the  Imperial  Chancelry  at  Mainz, 
And  ask  a  speedy  answer! 


ACT  FIRST 

Queen.  Send,  ay,  but  how  and  whom  ?  Yourself  must 

stay 
To  be  our  safety  here. 

Elfrida.  Your  majesty, — 

If  I  may  speak  the  thought  that  jumps  in  me, — 
Send  Pharamond.  His  gaolers  are  my  friends; 
And  he  himself  has  promised  me  a  song, 
Which  well  may  be  continued  under  guard. 
Mark  you,  your  majesty,  the  king's  command 
Assigns  not  solitude  to  Pharamond, 
But  only  surveillance.  And  Oswald  shall 
Interpret  it  with  such  benign  regard 
(Under  instruction  from  your  highness'  eyes) 
That  Pharamond  shall  sleep  to-night  at  Mainz, 
And  on  the  morrow  hail  the  emperor 
To  our  deliverance. 

Queen.  What  say  you,  Gaston? 

Gaston.  'T  is  a  likely  plan, 

And  meets  our  need  of  haste.  The  doctor's  shaft 
Was  fumbled  in  the  aim,  and  grazes  us. 
To-morrow  may  clap  feathers  to  his  bolts. 
Will  not  these  servants,  think  you,  be  dismissed 
Ere  eventide? 

Queen.          What  others  can  he  get? 

C  35] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Gaston.  Others  are  marching  towards  us,  out  of 
doubt. 

Queen.  It  is  most  like.  The  papers  shall  be  drawn, 
And  by  Elfrida  brought  to  Pharamond. 
Be  seen  about  the  castle,  all  of  ye, 
Calming  the  ruffled  household  with  your  looks, 
And  later  bring  your  wits  to  my  assistance. 


[36] 


ACT  II 

SCENE  FIRST 
THE  QUEEN'S  CHAMBER 

The  Queen  and  Hedwig  are  at  work  over  some  do 
mestic  occupation. 

JTiEDwiG.  And  which  of  your  two  sons  did  you  love 
best  last  night? 

Queen.  Hedwig,  you  are  an  old  witch.  How  did  you 
know  I  was  thinking  of  that? 

Hedwig.  Old  witch !  Why,  that  is  what  witches  are. 
They  are  old  servants;  just  cast-off  servants.  That  is 
why  they  know  everything. 

Queen.  You  have  always  some  sharp  splinters  of 
wit  about  you,  Hedwig.  And  which  of  my  boys  do  you 
think  I  love  best, — in  all  your  wisdom? 

Hedwig.  An  easy  question.  T  is  him  you  give  the 
most  pain  to,  Lady  Margaret, — and  your  own  son, 
of  course;  not  the  foundling. 

Queen.  Well,  Hedwig,  I  believe  I  love  Gaston  the 
foundling — as  nearly  as  any  woman  can — as  much 
as  my  own  son  Wolfram.  But  it  is  many  years  since 
you  have  called  me  "Lady  Margaret." 

Hedwig.  And  have  not  the  thoughts  of  many  years 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

ago  been  coming  up  in  all  our  faces  lately  ?  May  I  give 
your  highness  a  splinter  of  my  wit  to  open  your  eyes 
with? 

Queen.  Why,  I  cannot  prevent  you,  Hedwig. 

Hedwig.  Keep  your  hands  off  the  lads  and  the 
lasses,  Lady  Margaret. 

Queen.  What  say  you? 

Hedwig.  Let  them  choose  for  themselves. 

Queen.  What  do  you  mean,  old  Hedwig? 

Hedwig.  How  little  we  know!  How  little  we  see! 
Do  as  you  would  be  done  by,  Lady  Margaret.  Your 
niece  and  Signor  Gaston  will  make  a  match,  if  you  will 
keep  your  hands  off. 

Queen.  Gaston  and  Elfrida — 

Hedwig.  What  has  your  own  life  been  made  by  the 
meddling  of  elders  ? — grief  and  heart-burning.  If  they 
had  let  you  alone,  you  would  have  married  Count 
Hugo. 

Queen.  Hedwig,  how  dare  you ! 

Hedwig.  Well,  it  is  long  since;  and  yet  it  is  near 
by.  I  think  it  is  only  yesterday  that  he  bade  you  good 
bye,  and  rode  off  on  his  charger;  and  he  came  back 
never  again. 

Queen.  What  is  it,  Hedwig? — that  I  should  suffer 
[38] 


ACT  SECOND 

your  ill-humour  and  your  impertinence !  You  know  I 
never  loved  Count  Hugo. 

Hedwig.  More 's  the  pity !  He  was  a  noble  gentle 
man  ;  and  you  gave  him  the  heart-break.  And  you  gave 
it  to  me. 

Queen.  This  is  intolerable!  What  has  happened, 
Hedwig?  If  you  take  these  liberties  I  shall  have  to 
send  you  away;  and  I  shall  send  you  away — forever. 

Hedwig.  All  things  have  happened.  Your  marriage 
has  happened.  More 's  the  pity,  more 's  the  pity.  And 
this  great  match,  and  this  great  king,  and  his  great 
kingdom,  with  everything  to  give  you — everything 
except  love — and  that  he  never  gave  you;  for  he  had 
it  not  to  give,  for  he  left  his  love  at  Jerusalem,  and 
he  sent  you  his  child  to  bring  up !  Curses  on  him,  it 
is  the  truth ! 

Queen.  Hedwig,  thou  liest!  Thou  unclean  animal! 
Leave  me!  Come  not  near  me!  Dost  thou  carry  this 
filth  in  thy  mind?  Go,  I  say!  And  come  not  back. 
When  I  ring  let  Hilda  come.  Go,  go !  [Exit  Hedwig. 
It  is  not  true.  'T  is  not  in  Sigmund's  nature. 
Such  meanness  is  not  in  him.  He  has  been 
Loving,  repentant,  shifting,  pitiable; 
But  never  base.  This  hag  would  turn  an  act 

[39] 


THE   MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Of  grace  and  goodness  into  infamy. 

And  yet  the  dates  would  make  it  possible. 

Why  did  I  never  dream  there  was  a  child? 

'T  is  very  likely,  though  it  heaps  the  sin — 

But  no,  it  is  not  true.  He  knew  it  not. 

He  could  not,  even  in  grief,  have  lived  with  me 

And  I  not  know  it.  I  have  drained  his  soul 

Of  all  its  meanings;  and  no  child  was  there. 

And  were  it  so,  could  this  defile  the  child? 

My  boy,  my  blessed  Gaston,  sent  to  me 

As  from  the  angels? — I  must  wash  my  heart, 

Purge  it  with  hyssop,  ere  I  speak  to  him. 

(Goes  to  a  cabinet  and  takes  out  a  package?) 
Shall  I  speak  now? — it  has  been  long  delayed, 
And  will  draw  off  the  poison  from  my  soul. 

(Rings  a  bell;  enter  Hilda,) 
Tell  Signer  Gaston  I  would  speak  with  him. 

[Exit  Hilda. 

It  is  a  dread  that  haunts  me,  that  some  change 
Will  follow  on  my  giving  him  the  cross. 

Enter  Gaston.  The  Queen  looks  at  him  long  and 
earnestly. 

Whosever  child  thou  art,  thou  art  my  son 
And  Wolfram's  brother. 

[40] 


ACT  SECOND 

Gaston.  What,  has  he  falFn  into  his  glooms  again  ? 
I  left  him  in  the  zenith.  Last  night's  work 
Has  roused  him  to  ambition.  Once  for  all, 
I  tell  thee  give  him  rein.  He  goes  apace; 
And  at  this  moment  is  consulting  me. 
If 't  be  for  this  that  thou  hast  summoned  me, 
I  must  go  back. 

Queen.  Nay,  it  is  not  for  this:  'tis  for  thyself. 
A  solemn  hour  I  owe  thee,  long  delayed, 
Which  the  o'ergathered  skies  precipitate. 
We  cannot  tell  what  storms  begin  to  break, 
Or  how  our  lives  may  drift:  it  must  be  now. 

Gaston.  All  hours  of  mine  are  thine,  thou  knowest 
well. 

Queen.  When  thou  wast  left  within  the  castle  gate, 
Out  of  thy  basket  smiled  a  confidence 
That  shined  on  our  first  meeting,  and  still  shines 
On  both  our  lives. 

Gaston.  From  both  our  hearts,  my  lady. 

Queen.  Yes,  from  them  both.  But,  Gaston,  thy  true 

mother 

Left — rather  sent,  for  from  her  grave  it  came — 
A  package  with  a  note. 
It  is  her  crucifix;  and  in  the  lines, 
She  begs  they  be  withholden  from  her  son 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Till  he  be  grown  to  manhood.  That  is  all. 
I  know  not  who  she  was,  and  ever  kept 
My  thoughts  from  asking,  since  she  told  it  not. 
Read  them  not  now;  but  when  thou  art  alone. 
Take  it:  'tis  thine.  (Gives  the  package.} 

Gaston.  My  lady,  I  do  take  it, 

As  I  have  taken  all  things  at  thy  hands, 
Richer  for  passing  through  them. 

[She  kisses  him  on  the  forehead  and  exit. 
Dear  gift,  I  have  no  time  to  think  on  thee. 

(Opens  the  package.) 
A  crucifix! — that  typifies  perhaps 
A  crucifixion.  Must  I  read  the  lines 
Written  in  pain?  The  pain  speaks  out  of  them, — 
Love,  pain,  and  death. 


SCENE  SECOND 
ON  THE  RAMPARTS 

Distant  View,  Sunset.  In  some  part  of  the  architecture 
a  small  grated  door  leading  into  a  Turret.  Hildebrand 
on  guard.  Elfrida  at  first  speaks  to  herself,  later  to 
Hildebrand. 

ELFRIDA.  That  men  should  raise  these  great  walls 

towards  heaven  for  the  benefit  of  watchmen !  All  be- 

[42] 


ACT  SECOND 

low,  dungeons  and  guard-rooms, — darkness  and  the 
crimes  of  the  earth.  And  here  above,  they  place  a  soar 
ing  heavenly  nest,  which  swings  beneath  the  stars  at 
night ;  and,  in  the  morning,  turns  to  a  sun-smit  bal 
cony  above  the  ribboned  river,  overviewing  the  illi 
mitable  sea  of  the  green  earth.  And  in  this  niche  of 
paradise  they  place  a  watchman,  and  bid  him  strain 
his  eyes  for  dust.  Dust  must  he  see,  dust  watch  for, 
dust  dream  of,  while  this  changing  magic  of  sky  and 
land  unrolls  itself  unseen  before  him.  Hildebrand, 
what  hast  thou  seen  to-day? 

Hildebrand.  I  have  seen  a  company  of  Flemish  mer 
chants  with  their  mules. 

Elfrida.  How  dost  thou  know  they  were  mules? 

Hildebrand.  Horses  would  raise  a  greater  cloud,  my 
lady.  It  is  ever  at  this  time  of  year  that  the  Walloon 
traders  pass  by  here,  coming  from  the  Rhine. 

Elfrida.  It  would  be  hard  to  cast  dust  in  thine 
eyes,  old  watchman ;  they  are  dust-proof.  In  how  short 
a  time  will  a  good  horse  carry  a  good  rider  from  this 
castle  to  Coblentz,  Hildebrand? 

Hildebrand.  In  four  hours,  my  lady — three  and  a 
half  if  the  roads  be  fair. 

Elfrida.  And  from  there  to  Mainz? 

[   43] 


THE  MAID'S   FORGIVENESS 

Hildebrand.  A  matter  of  two  hours. 

Elfrida.  Fetch  me  my  lute,  Hildebrand. 

Hildebrand.  I  dare  not  leave  the  watch,  my  lady. 
I  must  report  each  hour  to  Oswald. 

Elfrida.  Each  hour,  sayst  thou?  Is  Oswald  looking 
for  troops,  think  you  ? 

Hildebrand.  I  think  nothing,  my  lady,  but  to  do 
what  the  queen  says,  and  to  report  to  Oswald. 

Elfrida.  And  if  there  come  two  hundred  Swiss  cut 
throats  headed  by  Satan  himself,  and  this  Iscariot  bids 
you  let  them  in,  you  will  do  so,  I  suppose. 

Hildebrand.  I  shall  report  them  to  Oswald. 

Elfrida.  And  Oswald  will  let  them  in? 

Hildebrand.  If  Oswald  turned  key  on  Pharamond 
the  minstrel,  as  good  a  friend  as  ever  I  had  in  my  life, 
— and  as  good  a  friend  as  the  king  had, — I  suppose 
he  will. 

Elfrida.  Hildebrand,  harkee !  Pharamond  is  by  this 
time  in  Mainz,  raising  troops  to  save  us.  Oswald  is 
turning  the  keys  in  his  lock,  that  the  sound  of  the  click 
ing  may  cause  the  devil  to  sleep. 

Hildebrand.  But  does  the  queen  know  this? 

Elfrida.  Dost  thou  know  this  ring? 

Hildebrand.  Ay,  the  queen's  ring. 
[  44] 


ACT  SECOND 

Elfrida.  I  have  been  the  round  of  all  the  guards 
with  the  story.  Keep  up  thy  vigilance,  make  thy  reports, 
obey  thy  master  the  king  and  his  master  the  doctor. 
If  our  friends  arrive  first,  it  is  well;  if  not,  we  will 
throw  down  the  mask  and  stand  siege  till  they  come. 
Go  to:  study  thy  dust;  keep  thy  countenance;  and 
talk  little.  I  will  sing  a  song  to  ease  my  heart,  which 
thumps  loudly.  The  lute  is  at  the  door;  give  it  me. 

(Sings  and  accompanies  herself.  Hildebrand  returns 
to  his  guard  at  some  distance,  and  during1  the  song1 
Gaston  enters.) 

SONG 

Glad  to  his  horse  he  springs, 
The  child  of  fifty  kings, 
Bids  bolts  be  drawn. 
Out  of  the  castle's  keep 
He  passes  at  a  leap 
Across  the  lawn. 

Rides  as  his  horse  had  wings, 
And,  as  he  gallops,  sings 
With  sword  half  drawn. 
To  set  the  shackles  free, 
To  save  his  friend,  rides  he 
Across  the  dawn. 
[45] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

(As  she  finishes  the  song1  she  looks  up  and  sees  Gas- 
ton.) 

Gaston,  I  cannot  play  this  comedy  longer.  My  steps 
falter,  my  heart  aches,  my  head  swims.  How  many 
days  have  we  been  in  this  trap? 

Gaston.  Since  six  o'clock  yestreen. 

Elfrida.  Gaston,  I  had  thought  it  a  month.  And 
how  long  must  it  continue? 

Gaston.  Why,  as  events  go  in  this  world,  and  with 
good  luck  on  our  side,  I  should  say  a  week  would  bring 
the  crisis. 

Elfrida.  And  what  will  happen  in  this  week? 

Gaston.  I  take  it  that  Pharamond  will  somehow  get 
leave  to  lay  our  case  before  the  emperor;  and  this  will 
cause  the  enemy  to  show  their  hand, — we  cannot  guess 
how,  but  the  fighting  will  be  brought  into  the  open. 

Elfrida.  And  then? 

Gaston.  Then — I  know  not.  But  in  the  end  the 
clouds  will  blow  over  our  heads  and  leave  the  sunshine. 

Elfrida.  Gaston,  Gaston,  you  are  one  of  those  men 
who  take  all  things  for  granted, — fame,  fortune, 
honour.  Thou  dost  not  reach  out  thine  hand  for  these 
things  ;thouacceptest  them,  smiling.  And  thou  wouldst 
endow  all  other  men  with  the  like  gift  of  success. 

[46] 


ACT  SECOND 

Gaston.  Success,  lady  ?  Do  you  speak  of  success  to 
one  who  has  no  part  or  place  in  all  this  coloured  life 
of  the  world,  except  to  look  at  it  ?  As  I  first  opened 
my  eyes  on  it,  I  learned  that  I  was  nothing.  Amidst 
it  all,  I  have  schooled  myself  to  be  a  cipher,  lest  I 
should  betray  the  hospitality  that  took  me  in.  I  dare 
not  speak  now  of  myself,  lest  I  shall  break  out  and 
claim  the  place  of  others. 

Elfrida.  Thou,  a  cipher!  Thou  art  the  hoop  that 
holds  them  all  together,  Gaston.  They  lean  on  thee  as 
these  walls  lean  on  the  cliff.  Thou  art  everything ;  thou 
hast  everything.  It  is  all  given  thee  because  thou  de- 
sirest  nothing. 

Gaston.  Speak  not  so,  Elfrida.  Thou  knowest  not 
the  cost.  There  are  things  I  have  wanted — 

Elfrida.  What,  Gaston? 

Gaston.  There  is  a  thing  I  have  wanted  much — 

Elfrida.  What,  Gaston? 

Gaston.  I  cannot  have  it;  I  do  not  ask  it.  But,  El 
frida,  the  term  of  my  apprenticeship  is  up.  As  soon  as 
this  trouble  is  over,  I  go  to  seek  my  fortune  in  the 
world. 

Elfrida.  Gaston !  Thou  wilt  leave  us ! 

Gaston.  See,  Elfrida,  this  thought  is  not  new,  but 

[47] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

an  old  and  growing  thought, — that  I  must  speak; 
that  I  must  go.  And  it  is  to  thee  that  I  must  speak. 

Elfrida.  And  why  should  you  not? 

Gaston.  The  queen  this  morning  gave  me  news  of 
my  mother.  It  tells  me  nothing  I  knew  not  before ;  and 
yet  it  is  a  signal,  a  bell  that  strikes,  and  tells  me  to 
speak  at  once  and  go.  I  would  have  spoken  to  thee 
before,  but  feared  to  surprise  thee,  feared  to  pain  thee. 
And  so  I  waited,  thinking  that  time  would  show  the 
better  way  of  it. 

Elfrida.  Which  time  has  done,  Gaston. 

Gaston.  Elfrida,  I  love  thee. 

Elfrida.  And  why  should  you  not?  Must  the  wo 
men  do  all  the  loving  in  this  world?  Dost  thou  not 
think,  Gaston,  that  for  many  years  I  have  known  thou 
lovest  me?  Dost  thou  not  think  that  I  have  seen  the 
struggle  in  thee  and  suffered  in  it?  These  things  hap 
pen  in  duplicate,  and  transfer  themselves  to  women 
from  their  lovers,  like  reflections  in  a  glass.  Why,  Gas- 
ton,  I  love  thee,  and  have  always  loved  thee.  I  care 
not  whether  thou  be  a  peasant  or  a  prince.  Why  dost 
thou  make  so  much  protestation  over  a  plain  case? 

Gaston.  I  thought  thou  wast  predestined  for  thy 
cousin  Wolfram. 

[48] 


ACT  SECOND 

Elfrida.  For  Wolfram  ?  Why,  if  any  woman  were  a 
proposition  in  metaphysical  thought,  Wolfram  might 
look  at  her;  but  at  me,  never.  I  am  not  difficult  enough; 
I  am  plain  addition  and  subtraction.  Besides,  /  would 
not  have  him :  he  is  too  remarkable.  O  Gaston,  was  it 
because  the  gypsy  four  years  ago  prophesied  I  should 
be  queen,  that  you  grew  jealous?  Fie,  I  am  ashamed 
of  you ! 

Gaston.  It  is  not  any  of  these  things :  it  is  the  queen. 

Elfrida.  I  love  the  queen  as  much  as  you  can  love 
her;  and  I  owe  her  almost  as  much.  But  not  so  much 
as  that,  Gaston.  If  the  queen  have  it  in  her  heart  that 
I  shall  marry  her  son,  she  must  put  it  out  of  her  heart. 
I  cannot  grant  it. 

Gaston.  The  queen  has  been  to  me  mother,  and  fa 
ther,  and  home;  she  has  given  me  all.  And  if  she  have 
it  in  her  heart  that  thou  shalt  marry  her  son,  I  will 
not  interpose  myself.  It  would  be  treason  and  ingrati 
tude.  Elfrida,  I  love  thee,  but  I  will  not  woo  thee. 

Elfrida.  No !  But  thou  wouldst  play  me  as  a  pawn 
in  the  game  of  thy  life !  The  knight,  to  save  his  honour, 
lets  the  queen  take  the  pawn.  Fie  upon  you,  Gaston ! 
I  will  not  marry  Wolfram.  I  will  not  marry  him.  I — 
will — not — marry  him!  And  Wolfram  himself  shall 

beg  you  on  his  bended  knees  to  marry  me.  The  queen 
[  49  ] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

shall  beseech  it.  Must  you  be  pressed  further?  The 
king  shall  ask  it.  See,  Gaston  my  friend,  the  fighting 
is  going  to  be  brought  into  the  open.  This  pawn  oc 
cupies  a  strong  position  and  shows  fight. 

Gaston.  You  are  mad,  Elfrida. 

Elfrida.  I  am  not  mad,  I  am  only  sensible;  and  I 
will  bring  down  your  card  house  of  romantic  endea 
vour  with  a  few  strong  strokes  of  common  sense.  Till 
you  spoke  I  was  powerless ;  but  now  I  am  the  master.  I 
praise  God  for  it. 

Gaston.  Take  care  what  you  do,  Elfrida! 

Elfrida.  Ay,  I  will  take  care. 

Gaston.  And  do  not  add  one  more  to  the  griefs  that 
hang  over  this  house! 

Elfrida.  Trust  me,  trust  me,  Gaston.  The  hard  part 
is  done.  Do  you  think  I  have  needed  no  tact  or  dis 
cretion  during  these  last  two  years  ?  Trust  me,  the  rest 
is  easy.  Now  tell  me:  Last  night  the  king  was  up  till 
midnight ;  and  the  doctor  in  the  corner  tower  burned 
his  taper  till  three.  What  can  these  two  old  men  con 
cert  together  at  such  times,  think  you? 

Gaston.  Affliction  loves  late  hours. 

Elfrida.  And  treason  never  goes  to  bed  at  all. 
I  must  attend  the  queen.  [Exit  Elfrida. 

[  50] 


ACT  SECOND 

Enter  Wolfram  followed  almost  immediately  by  Gerard. 

Wolfram  (to  Gastori).  Why,  I  have  sought  for  thee 
the  castle  o'er. 

Gaston.  Hast  thou  got  news? 

Wolfram.  No  news,  but  information; 

Surmise,  that  may  be  valueless  or  not. 
In  our  uneasy  twilight  of  suspense 
Shadows  are  things,  and  every  rustling  motion 
A  cause  of  fear. 

Gaston.  Well,  let  me  hear  the  tale. 

Wolfram.  Some  strangers  have  been  near  the  castle 

wall, 
And  seen  by  Gerard.  But  this  is  not  all — 

Gaston.  And  where  is  Gerard? 

Wolfram.  Gerard  follows  me. 

(To  Gerard.)  Gerard,  rehearse  what  thou  hast  told  to 

me. 
Speak  not  too  loud. 

Gerard.  At  eventide,  my  lord, 

Above  the  deepening  shadows  of  the  moat, 
Figures  that  moved;  I  took  them  to  be  gypsies. 
Lights  in  the  bushes,  shades, — I  know  not  what. 

Gaston.  At  eventide,  you  say.  And  where  were  you? 

Gerard.  On  Clovis'  tower,  as  the  watchmen  call  it. 
[51  ] 


THE   MAID'S   FORGIVENESS 

Gaston.  The  place  you  name  is  a  neglected  orchard? 
One  sees  it  plainly  from  the  rampart's  edge? 

Gerard.  Ay,  that  is  it,  my  lord,  beneath  the  cliff, 
Outside  the  rampart.  'T  is  an  old  men's  home 
For  some  few  dying  fruit  trees. 

Wolfram.  This  countryside  is  full  of  partridges 
And  gypsies,  and  their  nests  are  ever  thick 
Beneath  the  bristling  hedge  of  feudal  war. 
Yet  it  disquiets  me  to  find  a  nest 
So  near  the  secret  entrance  to  the  castle. 
Our  enemy  within  has  friends  without. 
May  he  not  correspond  with  them  by  night, 
Using  this  entrance?  May  not  Gerard's  gypsies 
Prove  to  be  Hincmar's  spies?  The  covered  way 
Comes  up  within  a  bowshot  from  the  spot. 
Here  soldiers  might  collect  for  a  surprise. 
Now  for  the  news  that  brought  me  here  in  haste : 
The  guards  are  changed  to-night;  this  western  ramp 
Has  not  a  man  assigned  it  in  the  order. 

Gaston.  Who  told  you  this  ?  It  is  significant. 

Wolfram.   Gerard,  who  had  it  from  old  Hilde- 
brand. 

Gerard.  'T  is  so,  my  lord. 

Gaston.  Indeed.  What  shall  we  do  ? 

[52] 


ACT  SECOND 

Wolfram.  Why,  Gaston,  you  and  I  must  take  the 

watch. 

There  is  no  time  for  other  stratagem. 
At  least  we  shall  discover  what  is  wrong. 

Gaston.  Agreed.  And  let  us  part  immediately, 
Lest  we  be  seen  together  on  this  spot. 
Is  it  at  nine  o'clock  the  guards  go  off? 
Wolfram.  Nay,  ten. 

Gaston.  At  ten,  then,  meet  me  here, 

Or  something  after. 

Wolfram.  Gerard,  come  with  me. 

[Exeunt  ,•  Wolfram  and  Gerard  on  one  side,  Gas- 
ton  on  the  other.  The  curtain  falls;  and  imme 
diately  rises  on  the  same  scene  by  moonlight. 

SCENE  THIRD 

THE  SAME.  MOONLIGHT 

Wolfram  and  Gaston  in  armour. 

GASTON.  We  had  best  keep  in  the  shadow  of  the  tower 
till  we  know  more.  There  below  is  the  orchard  Gerard 
spoke  of. 

Wolfram.  And  it  is  as  silent  as  an  apparition.  I  can 
more  easily  believe  that  Gerard  imagined  inhabitants 

for  such  a  place  than  that  he  saw  them.  How  many 
[53] 


THE   MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

a  time  have  you  and  I,  Gaston,  counted  dead  rabbits 
in  that  spot  when  we  were  boys. 

Gaston.  It  is,  no  doubt,  for  the  same  purpose  that 
the  gypsies  have  chosen  it.  Wilt  thou  preserve  the 
game  strictly  when  thou  art  king? 

Wolfram.  How  strong  a  mystery  abides  in  things 
at  night!  Those  few  old  broken-hearted  trees,  those 
arches  and  masonry,  which  by  day  are  heaps  of  rub 
bish,  become,  by  night,  wonderful.  They  move  the 
heart;  they  overcome  us  with  pity.  What  is  there  in 
the  mere  diminution  of  daylight  that  can  do  this?  It 
dissolves  the  body  and  makes  ghosts  of  us.  Dost  thou 
fear  live  men,  Gaston,  when  thou  viewest  this  place? 

Gaston.  It  is  the  fear  of  live  men-at-arms  that  has 
brought  me  here,  and  I  rejoice  greatly  to  find  only 
ghosts. 

Wolfram.  And  I  fear  only  the  spirit.  What  say  you? 
Is  it  not  because  of  the  overshadowing  of  a  spirit  that 
we  keep  this  vigil  to-night?  What  gives  the  power  to 
those  men  whom  you  fear,  but  the  mysterious  extinc 
tion  of  soul,  the  mystical  eclipse  in  my  father?  Is  not 
this,  then,  the  reality;  and  are  not  your  live  men-at- 
arms,  and  your  daylight,  the  illusion  ? 

Gaston.  I  cannot  follow  you  in  the  moonlight,  Wol 
fram,  but  I  believe  you. 

[54] 


ACT  SECOND 

Wolfram.  Know'st  thou  what  is  in  my  heart  through 
all  this  siege,  through  all  the  plots  and  stratagems? 
It  is  in  my  mind  that  the  arena  of  my  father's  sick-room 
is  extended;  and  that  you  and  I  are  become  quack 
doctors, —  with  our  engines  of  war,  our  pills,  our  bul 
lets, — for  the  recovery  of  what? — of  the  castle,  of  our 
own  lives.  But  for  the  recovery  of  my  father's  soul, 
which  of  us  cares?  While  we  lay  our  siege  and  hold 
our  parleys,  the  powers  of  the  infernal  world  lay  siege 
to  him.  And  would  not  I  give  all  these  astute  triflings 
for  one  glimpse  into  that  greater  conspiracy?  Would 
I  not  give — 

Gaston.  Hist !  Stand  close.  Someone  is  coming.  We 
were  best  retire  further  into  the  shadows. 

(They  retire  a  little;  the  clank  of  armour  is  heard.) 

Wolfram.  By  their  walk,  armed  men. 

Gaston.  Two  of  them.  Who  goes  there? 

Diedriclf  (without).  Friends  to  the  Archbishop. 

Wolfram  (to  Gaston).  What  should  that  mean  ? 

Gaston.  It  is  some  countersign. 

Enter  Diedrick  and  Hans  in  armour  with  visors  down. 

Wolfram.  Thy  voice  is  not  strange  as  are  thy  words. 
Stand,  in  the  king's  name !  Villains,  if  ye  budge 
I  '11  hew  ye  to  the  earth.  Gaston,  fall  on ! 

[55] 


THE   MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 
(They  fight.  Diedrick  and  Hans  are  killed.) 
Wolfram.  Now  to  the  entrance  grille  and  throw  the 

bar 

Before  the  rest  are  on  us.  These  have  had 
A  key  at  their  disposal. 

[Exit  Gaston  and  the  sound  of  falling  bars  is 
heard.  Wolfram  kneels  by  the  body  of  Die 
drick.] 

Oh  for  a  light! — for  if  there  be  not  more, 
These  must  have  papers.  They  were  messengers. 
Would  God  we  had  a  light! 

(Pulls  some  papers  from  Diedrick's  breast.)  I  thought 

so. 
Gaston  (reentering).  Silent  as  death  below:  there 

are  no  more. 
Wolfram.  We  have  here  that  which  shall  unravel 

our  mystery. 
Would  God  we  had  a  light ! 

Gaston.  Someone  is  coming  up  the  turret  stairs. 
Wolfram.  It  is  the  master  of  these  wretched  men, 
Who  keeps  a  rendezvous — Hincmar,  no  doubt. 
He  shall  not  pass  the  threshold.  Stand  you  there; 
And,  lest  he  stumble  over  our  dead  friends, — 
(Pushes  the  bodies  each  to  one  side.) 

[  56  ] 


ACT  SECOND 

Even  as  he  issues  kill  him! 

The  door  in  the  turret  opens  rustily  and  enter  the 
King. 

Great  powers  of  God ! 
It  is  my  father,  tottering,  infirm, 
His  eyes  uncertain,  and  his  hands  outstretched, 
As  if  he  begged  for  mercy.  He 's  alone ; 
And  has,  perhaps,  escaped  his  gaoler's  eye 
To  catch  the  unclouded  beauty  of  the  night, 
Stealing  salvation.  Go,  good  Gaston,  go, 
And  get  between  this  doctor  and  his  prey. 
Leave  me  alone  with  this  imperilled  soul 
That  beats  its  wings  against  the  cage  of  life 
And  finds  no  door.  Go,  Gaston;  keep  a  watch, 
And  warn  me;  for  the  fiend  is  close  behind. 

(Gaston  retires  a  little.) 
King  (to  himself).  Deep  calls  to  deep;  there  is  no 

secrecy. 

All  hidden  crimes  are  written  on  the  sky; 
A  change  of  light  will  show  them.  Yet  we  fight 
To  keep  them  under  key.  Her  voice  all  night 
Has  floated  over  me  in  cadences 
More  soft  than  an  aeolian  instrument. 

Wolfram  (to  himself).  This  is  no  sickness;  this  is 
sanity, — 

[57] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

The  healing  pain  that  madness  cannot  bear. 

0  God,  that  didst  unravel  this  sick  soul, 
And,  skein  by  skein,  didst  cast  it  on  a  heap, 
Thy  power  begins  to  build  it  back  to  life. 

Gaston  (returning  to  Wolfram).  My  lord,  't  were  best 

we  do  absent  ourselves, 
Nor  stand  too  near  the  portals  of  a  spirit 
Open  to  the  utmost.  Many  a  good  man's  life 
Has  passages  a  son  may  leave  unguessed. 

Wolfram  (to  himself).  See,  in  the  darkness  where 

we  thought  him  lost, 
This  light  was  dawning.  (To  Gaston.) 

Didst  thou  speak  to  me? 

Gaston.  I  say  it  is  unseemly  to  observe  him. 

Wolfram.  Go  to  thy  post !  I  knew  not  thou  wast  here. 

[Exit  Gaston  through  the  grated  door. 

King  (to  himself).  Is  she  within  me,  that  I  feel  so 

clear 
The  proclamation  of  her  silent  will  ? 

Wolfram.  It  is  my  will,  my  father,  thou  dost  feel. 
What  thou  hast  done  I  know  not;  who  she  was 

1  care  not;  what  it  is  that  bids  thee  speak 
None  of  us  knows.  Yet  speak  it  to  the  world, 
That  has  no  power  to  punish,  save  by  fear 

[58] 


ACT  SECOND 

Of  punishment.  Proclaim  it  openly, 
And  these  hallucinations  will  be  laid 
Asleep  in  the  sunlight. 

King.  Wolfram!  art  thou  here? 

What  hast  thou  heard? 

Wolfram.  Enough  to  make  me  glad, 

Though  understanding  little. 

King.  Wolfram,  Wolfram, 

I  dare  not  think  of  thee. 

Wolfram.  Thou  hast  no  need 

To  think  of  me.  Keep  all  thy  thoughts  above  me. 

King.  Yet  falls  thy  lion's  shadow  on  my  path! 
Wolfram,  thou  wilt  take  vengeance — - 

Wolfram  Nay,  't  is  past. 

Thy  sacrilege  was  over  all  of  us, 
And  thy  redemption.  Father,  I  have  known 
Thy  vow  of  youth, — some  sin,  some  tragedy, 
Of  which  thine  outward  sickness  was  the  sign. 
Can  you  not  think  I  wore  it  in  my  life 
From  boyhood  up  ?  But  youth  and  reticence, 
Before  the  shadow  of  a  father's  sin, 
Are  dumb.  Now  manhood,  grief,  and  pain 
Make  me  the  father.  'T  is  a  mystery, 
Yet  plain  to  homely  thought.  Confess  the  sin. 

[59] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

I  meant  not  to  disturb  your  reveries; 

It  is  by  accident  God  grants  me  here 

A  moment's  flash  of  speech.  Your  friend  will  come, 

And  draw  you  back  through  subterranean  paths 

To  policy  and  medicine. 

King.  Wolfram!  Wolfram! 

Wolfram.  Promise  to  speak. 

King.  Dost  thou,  too,  urge  me,  Wolfram  ? 

Wolfram.  Promise  to  speak. 

King.  My  son,  I  promise  thee. 

Wolfram  (to  Heaven).  Do  Thou  accomplish  it!  He 
needs  me  not. 

Gaston  (without}.  My  lord,  the  doctor  comes! 

Wolfram.  Ay,  let  him  come. 

The  air  will  do  him  good. 

Enter  from  the  grated  door  first  Gaston,  then  Hinc- 
mar  with  a  lantern. 

(To  Hincmar.)  Good  evening,  sir. 
Hincmar  (to  the  King).  Is't  by  your  orders  that 

these  gentlemen 

Find  themselves  here  to-night  ?  If  it  be  so, 
I  cannot  for  your  life  be  answerable. 

King.  Nay,  it  is  no  one's  fault — an  accident. 
Good  Hincmar,  be  assured.  I  grow  so  strong 

[60] 


ACT  SECOND 

Through  your  good  care  of  me,  't  will  do  no  harm. 
Hincmar.  Harm   beyond   cure  to  what  you  hold 

most  dear 

May  come  of  it.  Take  care,  your  majesty; 
It  is  no  trifling  business  brings  them  here. 
'T  is  much  the  best  you  go  to  bed  at  once, 
And  let  me  reason  with  them. 

Wolfram.  Ay,  good  father, 

Leave  him  to  reason  with  us :  so  't  is  best. 
King.  I  will  obey  you  both. 

Hincmar  (sets  down  lantern  and  ushers  out  the  King). 

I  would  not  for  my  life 
Have  had  your  holy  purposes  disturbed 
By  such  infringement  of  your  solitude, 
Done  at  the  greatest  hazard  to  your  health, 
By  those  to  whom  I  thought  your  health  was  dear. 

[Exit  King  through  the  grated  door,  followed 
by  Hincmar. 

Wolfram.  Obsequious  serpent!  Gaston,  guard  the 

door! 

A  light,  at  last!  (Takes  the  lantern,  kneels  by  the  body 
of  Diedrick  and  holds  the  light  to  the  page.) 
It  is  a  letter  with  no  signature, 
The  bearer  dashed  with  mud  from  head  to  heel. 
Perhaps  the  secret  of  my  father's  life 
[  61  ] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Lives  in  these  pages.  To  my  soul  alone 

Belongs  the  interview.  (Puts  the  letter  in  his  pocket. 

Opens  the  visor  of  the  dead  man.)  Diedrick,  is  it  thou? 

Thou  hast  for  a  few  ducats  sold  thy  king, 

And  almost  killed  myself,  that  was  thy  friend. 

Enter  Hincmar,  with  somewhat  of  a  flourish. 
Hincmar.  What  have  ye  done  to  get  this  interview? 
(He  catches  sight  of  the  dead  bodies,  and  instantly 

springs  back  within  the  turret,  shutting1  the  grated 

door  as  he  does  so.) 

Gaston.  Walked  on  the  castle  wall  to  count  the 

guards. 
Hincmar.  Some  of  whom  ye  have  killed,  ye  sorry 

boys! 
Gaston.  Villain,  'tis  thou  that  slew'st  them.  They 

have  here 

Pretasted  of  the  cup  that  thou  shalt  drain. 
Have  at  thee !  Thou  hast  here  immured  the  king, 
Swept  the  coast  clear  of  all  protecting  guards, 
And  dost,  we  know,  by  daily  correspondence 
Invite  the  enemy  to  a  surprise. 
'T  is  best  you  know  what  follows  your  success. 
If  that  we  find  success  is  like  to  follow, 
On  the  first  stroke  or  sign  of  likelihood, 

[62] 


ACT  SECOND 
I  dedicate  my  life  to  killing  thee. 

Hincmar.  I  had  not  thought  to  laugh  within  this 

castle ! 

Ye  do  expect  an  ambush,  laying  one. 
I  '11  tell  the  king  his  cause  is  in  good  hands. 
Why,  these  are  household  servants  ye  have  killed, 
Doing  a  household  errand  for  the  court. 

Gaston.  Ay,  if  you  wish  their  letter  come  and  get  it. 
Go  in,  thou  hoary  traitor,  thou  false  friend, 
To  fawn  and  lick  the  hand  that  thou  wilt  bite. 

Wolfram.  Go  in,  old  man :  we  have  enough  of  thee. 
Thy  power  is  waning  and  thy  downfall  near. 

Hincmar.  Good  night,  young  masters.  When  my 

downfall  comes 
'Twill  not  be  through  a  foundling  and  a  bastard! 

[Exit  Hincmar. 

Wolfram.  Twice  has  he  made  miraculous  escape 
Out  of  our  hands.  But  this  time  he  hath  left 
A  thing  behind  more  precious  than  his  life. 
Gaston,  it  is  enough  for  one  night's  work: 
Our  vigil  was  not  wasted.  Let  us  here 
Gather  these  corpses  up,  and  make  them  fit 
For  burial  on  the  morrow.  Then  to  rest, 
And  meet  what  else  that  morrow  may  bring  forth; 

For  life  begins  to  stir. 

[63] 


ACT  III 

SCENE  FIRST 

A  ROOM  IN  THE  CASTLE 

Wolfram.  His  looks  show  that  he  has  been  up  all  night. 

W  OLFRAM.  At  last  I  am  alone.  It  is  the  first  hour  in 
the  last  four  and  twenty  in  which  I  find  one  moment 
of  solitude.  I  have  buried  the  two  knaves.  The  scud 
ding  of  events  beats  my  brain  dizzy.  Let  me  see.  I 
have  seen  the  king  my  father.  And  what  said  he  to  me, 
or  I  to  him  ?  I  bade  him  repent,  or  the  spirit  in  both 
of  us  cried  out  "  repent," — I  know  not  which.  For,  as 
the  gulf  opened  and  showed  him  to  me  as  he  is,  my 
soul  was  leaping  to  a  new  horse  that  tore  the  air  above. 
Some  climax  roars  like  a  torrent  and  sweeps  ever 
nearer — threatening  not  my  father  nor  me  alone;  but 
all,  all  of  us.  The  ship  of  state  rides  on  a  flying  wave 
before  the  blast.  What  was  it  that  I  must  read  or  think 
on  alone?  (Searches  his  breast  and  pulls  out  the  letter 
taken  from  Diedrictfs  body.)  What  now,  if  this  should 
contain  something  touching  myself?  I'll  not  read  the 
dirty  packet.  Yet  in  the  fumes  of  the  volcano  last 
night  I  read  my  name.  "Wolfram,  thou  wilt  take  ven 
geance."  No;  I  promise  thee. — Come,  this  is  trifling  with 

[64] 


ACT  THIRD 

men's  lives.  (Reads.)  "You  will  by  this  have  secured 
proofs  of  the  king's  earlier  marriage  which  will  confirm 
our  most  sure  discoveries  and  place  the  bastardy  of 
Wolfram  beyond  a  doubt."  This,  then,  is  the  plot, — 
to  disinherit  me.  The  shallow  rascals!  Nay — an  early 
marriage !  The  king's  remorse,  then,  should  be  not  for 
the  ruin  of  a  maid,  but  for  the  desertion  of  a  wife. — 
His  dread  of  me, — fear  lest  I  should  revenge, — his  re 
cent  sickness,  which  followed  their  discovery  or  threats, 
— all  tend  to  prove  them  right.  Let  me  keep  cool. 
(Reads.)  "  We  have  four  witnesses  who  know  the  fact, 
but  none  who  can  prove  it.  You  must  work  upon  the 
king.  His  wife  did  not  die  till — " 
It  is  the  truth !  The  devils  have  the  truth ! 
And  I  have  pulled  the  handle  of  perdition 
By  conjuring  my  father  to  confess. 
Wolfram,  thou  hast  thy  dream, — thou  art  a  soul 
Dissevered  from  the  common  bonds  of  life. 
How  dost  thou  like  it?  Thou  hast  now  no  place 
Beside  the  friendly  firesides  of  earth, 
No  duties  common  to  humanity 
Of  fixed  inheritance.  Thou  art  a  name, 
A  byword,  the  memento  of  a  crime, 
A  spirit  in  thyself;  but  nothing  more. 
Come,  I  am  wasting  pity  on  myself, 
'    [65] 


THE   MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Whiles  others  need  it. 

O  thou  old  king,  what  evil  hast  thou  done 

On  two  defenceless  women!  One  is  dead; 

One  lives  to  catch  all  pity  for  the  first, 

And  keep  it  fresh — my  mother.  Why  on  her 

Should  fall  such  desecration?  Why  on  one 

Most  innocent,  most  loyal,  and  most  proud, 

On  whom  dishonour's  touch  was  powerless 

Even  in  the  thought?  O  father,  it  was  base! 

Weakness  in  man  doth  gash  a  woman's  life 

Deeper  than  crime. — And  I  that  thought  her  cold! 

Living  within  the  chill  of  infamy 

That  oozes  from  this  damned  castle's  walls, 

Divided  from  her  son.  1 11  go  to  her, 

Lest  a  portcullis  fall  again  between 

And  cut  us  off — 

Enter  Queen. 
O  mother,  do  you  come 
As  I  did  fly  to  you?  Wilt  thou  forgive  me? 
Queen.  For  what,  my  son? 
Wolfram.  For  all  the  insolence, 

Cruelty,  slights,  neglect,  misunderstanding, 
Suspicion,  and  aloofness  from  thy  heart 
With  which  my  ingrate  nature  punished  thee. 

Queen.  Indeed,  indeed,  my  Wolfram,  I  forgive  thee. 
[66] 


ACT  THIRD 

Wolfram.  Thou  hast  had  griefs  that  were  not  in  my 

ken; 

And  these,  instead  of  softening,  distanced  me, 
And  made  me  misinterpret.  They,  perhaps, 
Did  underlie  my  moods,  and  made  me  mad 
To  feel  the  grope  of  them.  Oh,  thou  hast  needed  me 
When  I  have  cast  thee  off  and  thought  thee  cold. 
It  was  the  hope  thy  son  should  prove  a  man, 
Which  I  have  thought  ambition,  claiming  me. 

Queen.  T  is  true  that  I  have  felt  myself  alone, 
And  have  had  sorrows  that  thou  knewest  not. 
Women  do  best  who  in  their  quandaries 
Make  husbands  of  their  sons.  But  I  could  not, — 
Nor  would  not  break  the  globe  of  thy  beliefs, 
Which  were  thy  birthright,  and  perhaps  his  too. 
'T  is  true  that  I  have  seen  in  thee  a  hero 
Who  should  amend  all  ancient  misery; 
There  was  ambition  in  it,  and  some  claim. 

Wolfram.  Of  course,  of  course ;  what  woman  could 

do  else? 

They  are  intrinsic  in  a  mother's  heart, 
And  I  a  feeble  creature  to  resent  them. 
Wilt  thou  believe  that  I  can  cherish  thee 
Through  what  may  come?  We  know  not  what  may 
come, 

[67] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Yet  something,  with  these  tremblings  of  the  times, 
Is  bound  to  come.  The  earth  beneath  our  feet 
Seems  to  be  moving;  some  convulsive  shock 
Will  shatter  those  who  trust  it. 

Queen.  O  my  son, 

Stand  we  upon  the  truth,  and  glancing  up 
Await  the  transformation.  I  care  not 
So  thou  do  stand  beside  me. 

Enter  Ephraim. 

Ephraim.  Your  majesties,  Sir  Pharamond 

Is  come  from  Mainz,  and  craves  an  audience. 

Queen.  Pharamond  here? 

Let  him  come  up;  and  bid  Count  Gaston  come. 
Ephraim.  Pardon,  your  highness,  Pharamond  doth 

ask 
A  private  word  before  your  majesties. 

Wolfram.  Let  him  come  up.  [Exit  Ephraim. 

Despite  all  earthly  power, 
State  secrets  turn  to  gossip  in  an  hour. 

Enter  Pharamond. 

Welcome,  good  Pharamond;  thy  embassy 
Most  promptly  is  performed.  What  news  from  Mainz? 
Pharamond.  Both  good  and  bad,  my  liege. 

Wolfram.  Tell  the  best  first, 

[68] 


ACT  THIRD 

That  we  be  fortified  to  greet  the  worst. 

Pharamond.  First,  first  and  best, — your  safety  is  se 
cure. 

The  emperor  does  send  a  martial  troop, 
And  places  his  protection  o^er  the  castle. 
All  danger  of  surprise  or  siege  is  past. 
And  here,  perhaps,  should  my  recital  end, 
For  safety  was  the  purpose  of  my  flight. 

Wolfram.  Tell  in  one  word  what  else  thou  hast  to  say. 

Pharamond.  My  liege,  no  word  will  tell  it.  I  did  find 
At  Mainz  a  nest  of  intrigue,  'tis  too  true; 
A  party  strongly  knit  and  well  informed, 
Who  stand  behind  the  doctor's  insolence, 
And  prophesy  some  ruin  to  your  throne. 

Queen.  We  all  have  guessed  this  Hincmar  was  a  spy. 
But  is  the  emperor  committed  to  them? 

Pharamond.  I  do  not  think  so,  lady.  Our  appeal 
Came  hot  before  their  project  was  unmasked: 
We  had  his  ear  the  first.  The  enemy, 
Seeing  me  prosper  with  the  emperor, 
Put  in,  post  haste,  their  plea;  with  what  result 
We  soon  shall  know.  Imperial  couriers 
Follow  me  at  the  heels.  I  dared  not  stop 
To  learn  their  message,  lest  my  doing  so 

Should  lose  you  mine. 

[69] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 
Enter  Ephraim,  followed  by  Courier. 
Ephraim.  Your  majesties, — the  imperial  courier. 
(Courier  kneels  and  delivers  a  paper  to  the  Queen, 
who  hands  it  to  Wolfram.) 

Wolfram  (examining  it).  It  is  a  writ 
From  the  Imperial  Chancelry  at  Mainz, 
Appointing  a  commission  to  hold  court, 
Take  proof,  and  issue  judgment  on  all  facts 
Affecting  my  succession  to  this  throne. 
Mother,  take  heart;  the  liquid  bolt  of  light 
That  rives  the  oak  and  kindles  it  to  flame, 
Finds  passage  through  the  unopposing  will, 
And  leaves  us  stronger.  Can  we,  then,  much  fear 
The  fulminations  of  a  chancelry? 

Pharamond.  Who's  the  commissioner? 

Wolfram  (still  examining  the  paper).  Prince  Mgi- 
dius. 

Pharamond.  The  great  elector?  Why,  thank  God 

for  that! 

One  of  the  pillars  of  old  chivalry, 
That  lifts  the  roof  o'er  honour, — such  a  man 
As  Charlemagne  imagined  in  his  dreams 
Might  catch  his  mantle  as  he  left  the  earth. 
Upon  my  troth,  the  emperor,  though  young, 

[70] 


ACT  THIRD 

Has  dignified  himself  by  such  a  choice. 
Where  sits  the  court,  my  liege? 

Wolfram.  Here,  and  at  once. 

(To  the  Courier.) 
His  excellency  follows,  does  he  not? 

Courier.  Two  hours  behind,  my  lord;  and  with  him 

come 

The  hands  and  feet  of  justice, — sheriffs,  criers, 
And  paper-filling  scribes;  with,  at  their  head, 
Two  of  the  greatest  clerks  of  Christendom 
To  plead  on  either  side:  Brevarius, 
Who  stands  for  the  proceedings  'gainst  your  crown, 
While  to  your  cause  Arnolfo  is  assigned. 

Pharamond.  Arnolfo,  on  whose  wit  the  inspired  pilot 
Ever  casts  anchor  in  a  hurricane ! 
Wolfram,  we  shall  be  saved. 

Wolfram.  But  not  by  him. 

The  law  doth  wreck,  not  save.  Here,  Pharamond, 
Provide  this  gentleman  with  an  accueil 
Fitting  his  station ;  and,  in  all  that  follows, 
Remember  we  are  hosts. 


[71  ] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

SCENE  SECOND 
THE  BANQUET- HALL 

In  the  centre  of  the  stage,  at  the  back,  JEg'idius  sitting 
as  judge.  Before  him  a  table  covered  with  volumes, 
inkstands,  documents,  etc.  At  one  end  of  the  table  (at 
^Egidius"1  right)  sit  ArnoTfo  and  his  associates;  at  the 
other  end  Brevarius  and  his  associates.  On  ^gidius"1 
right,  and  front,  but  on  a  lower  chair,  sits  the  King, 
and  by  him  stands  Hincmar.  On  the  same  side,  but  at 
some  distance  from  the  King  and  nearer  the  audience, 
sit  the  Queen  and  Wolfram,  who  is  dressed  with  care. 
On  JEigidius*  left,  and  front,  is  a  witness-stand  which 
balances  King  and  Hincmar.  On  the  same  side,  but 
nearer  the  audience,  are  Gaston,  Elfrida,  and  Phara- 
mond.  The  whole  disposition  is  somewhat  informal  and 
shows  its  improvised  character.  The  only  person  in  the 
whole  play  whose  dress  should  be  conspicuously  hand 
some  is  JEgidius.  Before  speaking,  he  takes  off  a  jew 
elled  sword  and  lays  it  on  the  table  before  him. 

JEciDius.  King  Sigismund,  and  his  much  honoured 

queen, 

I  greet  and  thank  you  both  for  our  reception. 
We  may  not  choose  our  duties  in  this  life, 
Else  had  I  shuffled  this  commission  off, 
And  bade  my  master  find  a  fitter  judge 
Than  an  old  soldier,  worn  and  out  of  use, 

[72] 


ACT  THIRD 

And  ignorant  of  clerkly  reasoning, 

Tho1  skilled  in  steely  argument  of  war. 

Such  as  I  am,  I  do  accept  the  task, 

Feeling  it  weighty,  and  myself  most  weak. 

Pray  you  believe,  King  Sigmund  and  his  queen, — 

And  you,  young  sir,  who  stand  in  jeopardy, — 

I  know  no  further  in  this  controversy 

Than  what  the  writ  reveals. 

(To  Clerk.)  Read  the  commission, — 

The  phrases  which  assign  the  scope  of  it, — 

Not  the  whole  document. 

Clerk.  My  lord,  you  are 

Appointed  to  take  proof  and  issue  judgment 
On  all  the  facts  affecting  the  succession 
Of  Wolfram,  heir  presumptive  to  the  crown. 
jEgidius  (to  Clerk).  Hold  the  Evangel.  (Clerk  holds 

the  book,  a  folio.  JEgidius  rises.)  I,  ^Egidius, 
Prince  Palatine,  Imperial  Elector, 
Knight  of  Apollo's  Well,  and  Guardian 
Of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  Count  of  Antioch, 
Swear  to  adjudge  this  cause  in  innocence, 
Without  reward,  unmindful  of  result, 
According  to  its  merits  and  the  light 
Accorded  me  from  Heaven :  So  help  me  God. 

(Sits  down.) 
[73] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 
Pharamond  (to  Gastori).  Is't  not  a  paladin!  The 

style  of  Caesar, 

Begemmed  with  bits  of  Christian  metaphor, 
And  all  imperial.  What  a  spectacle! 
Were  we  not  moved  too  deeply  to  enjoy, 
This  were  a  pictured  pageant,  stiff  with  gold 
That  needed  only  music  for  a  frame. 

Gaston.  Music  that  burns  in  the  heart  like  tears 

unshed ! 
See  the  poor  queen.  (Goes  and  stands  by  the  Queen.) 

Brevarius.  May  it  please  the  court: — 
This  is  an  action  issuing  from  the  crown, 
And  set  on  foot  by  the  imperial  power, 
Which  seeks  by  inquisition  to  make  sure 
The  just  succession  of  King  Sigismund. 
The  precedents,  too  numerous  to  quote, 
Are  briefed  for  reference.  If  a  doubt  be  raised 
As  to  the  jurisdiction,  we  do  rest 
Upon  the  queen's  appeal  of  yesterday, 
Which  at  the  emperor's  feet  throws  all  her  rights. 
Now  it  so  happens  that  the  queen's  appeal 
Meets  us  half-way  in  a  prolonged  research 
Through  records,  documents,  and  witnesses, — 
The  dusty  trail  of  a  well-buried  past, — 
And  crowns  the  establishment  of  certain  facts 
[74] 


ACT  THIRD 

Which  make  a  regency  inevitable. 

Your  honour  will  permit  me  to  be  brief:  — 

(He  adjusts  his  spectacles,  shifts  papers,  etc.) 

Queen  (aside).  Can  the  last  judgment  hold  a  pain 

like  this? 

The  callow,  almost  sacred  sins  of  youth, 
Which  I,  his  wife,  forgave,  to  be  dug  up, 
Handled,  and  verified.  7  dreamed  them  out, 
And  laid  them,  as  I  thought,  asleep  forever. 

Brevarius.  We  shall  establish,  may  it  please  the 

court, 

That  Sigmund,  then  crown  prince  of  Minneberg, 
In  the  year  eleven  hundred,  being  then 
Upon  a  journey  to  the  Holy  Land, 
Met  in  Bavaria  at  Wittelsbach 
One  Eva  Adelaide  Meisterthaler, — 
Daughter  to  a  burgomaster  of  the  name. 
That  the  said  Eva  in  the  prince's  train 
Travelled  to  Augsburg,  where,  on  Sunday  morn, 
The  fourteenth  day  of  August,  by  a  priest, 
In  the  lesser  chapel  of  the  Carmelites, 
The  twain  were  married. 

Queen  (springing forward).  Never  married,  prince! 
It  is  the  pitiful  tale  of  reckless  youth, 
Too  common  and  too  sad  for  scrutiny, 
[  75] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Which  many  a  man  has  worn  about  his  neck, 
And  many  a  woman  wept  o'er.  Must  it  be 
That  I,  a  woman,  bid  men  play  their  part 
In  weighing  at  their  worth  the  sins  of  love, 
Not  mousing  o'er  the  grief  they  leave  behind? 

JEgidius.  'Fore  God,  a  valiant  lady !  T  is  the  truth. 
(To  Brevarius.)  Confine  the  pleadings  to  the  evidence, 
And  let  thy  words  be  dry.  I  '11  not  sit  here 
To  see  law's  dogs  drag  sorrow  up  and  down, 
To  make  a  sport  for  servants. 

Brevarius.  'T  is  my  aim 

To  keep  to  the  bones  of  the  matter;  dry  they  are. 
(Continuing.)  Thereafter,  in  the  autumn  of  the  year, 
After — the  episode  of  which  I  spoke — 
Prince  Sigmund's  father  died,  and  he  returned 
From  Germany,  was  married  and  was  crowned, 
In  quick  succession;  leaving  Adelaide, 
Who  to  a  sheltering  convent  turned  her  steps, 
And  there  gave  birth,  before  her  own  decease, 
To  a  child, — a  boy,  so  please  your  excellency — 
Of  whom  uncertain  information  lives. 
His  disappearance  does  not  prove  his  death; 
Nay  rather,  his  survival  is  surmised 
From  sundry  finger-posts  of  circumstance. 

What  we  shall  clearly  find  and  plainly  prove 
[76] 


ACT  THIRD 

Is  that  upon  the  seventeenth  of  May — 
The  date  of  his  highness'  marriage  to  the  queen  — 
Both  Adelaide  and  the  aforesaid  child 
Were  surely  living.  Witness,  take  the  stand! 
Cleric.  Anna  Maria  Schmiede,  take  the  stand. 

(After  some  movement  among  the  court  officials,  a 
very  old,  little,  bent  nun  is  led  forward  and  set  upon 
the  witness-stand.) 

Arnolfo  (to  Brevarius).  Your  pardon,  learned  col 
league,  you  do  prove 
The  marriage  by  this  witness,  I  suppose. 

Brevarius.  No,  not  by  her.  That  will  come  later  on. 
Arnolfo  (rising  very  slowly  to  his  full  height,  and 
addressing  the  Court).  Your  honour  will  not  bid 
me  take  your  time 

With  argument  to  show  so  plain  a  thing, — 
That  till  my  friend  produce  his  proofs  of  marriage, 
All  this  proceeding  is  a  sorry  farce, 
Impertinent,  expensive,  and  most  trivial. 
A  proof  of  valid  marriage,  if  produced, 
May  make  this  woman's  word  of  some  account; 
But,  till  produced,  I  see  not  that  it  matters 
What  ancient  tales  she  tells.  Her  majesty 
Has  sounded  the  keynote  of  this  affair, 
And  made  our  labours  light. 
[77] 


THE  MAID'S   FORGIVENESS 

Brevarius.  Nay,  brother  doctor, 

The  order  in  which  evidence  appears 
Is  unimportant,  so  it  all  get  in. 
T  is  elementary  that  we  may  put 
Our  case  with  such  foot  forward  as  we  please. 

Arnolfo.  Ay,  brother  jurisconsult,  so  you  may, 
In  cases  where  your  suit  concerns  a  cow, 
Bring  the  beast  in  tail  foremost  if  you  please, 
Shove  her  in  sideways.  But  in  what  concerns 
The  honour  of  a  kingly  family, 
You  may  not  bring  in  chronicles  of  vice 
Upon  your  say-so  that  some  after-proof 
Will  make  them  competent. 

(To  the  Court.)  The  proofs  of  marriage, 
My  lord,  the  proofs  of  marriage,  are  his  case. 
Let  him  produce  them. 

(Brevarius  and  his  subordinates  consult.) 

Pharamond  (to  Gaston).  Did  I  not  say  Arnolfo's 

master-grip 

Would  throw  the  rascals?  He  has  frozen  them. 
They  winter  at  the  pole.  Their  lips  are  dry. 
While  good  JSgidius  glows  with  kindly  fire. 
He  will  sustain  Arnolfo. 

JEgidius,  Brevarius, 

Till  you  give  proof  of  this  alleged  marriage, 
[78] 


ACT  THIRD 

No  witness  can  be  heard:  I  so  decide. 

Pharamond  (to  Wolfram  and  the  Queen).  There  is 

no  proof!  'T  is  plain,  there  is  no  proof. 
Look  at  Brevarius  whose  looks  disprove 
All  proof!  Is  he  not  like  an  angry  hound 
That  dares  not  bite? 

Queen  (aside).  Why  did  I  never  dream  there  was  a 
child? 

JEgidius.  I  see  no  proof  forthcoming;  and  herewith 
I  shall  dismiss  this  most  indecent  suit, 
Reporting  to  the  emperor  my  pain, 
Mingled  with  joy,  that  I  was  chosen  judge. 
Madam,  — 

(A  movement  among  the  officials.  The  King  has  risen 
and  moved  fonvard.) 

Hincmar.  My  lord,  the  king  would  speak. 

King  (after  one  or  two  efforts  in  which  his  lips  move 
without  producing  a  sound).  I  do  confess  the  mar 
riage. 

(A  spontaneous  murmur  of  disgust  and  reprobation 
runs  about  the  court-room.) 

j^Egidius.  Order! 

He  has  not  heard  aright;  or  is  not  sane. 
What  dost  thou  say? 

King.  I  do  confess  the  marriage. 
[79] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

jEgidius.  'Fore  God,  thou  art  a  most  confounded 

villain ! 

Hadst  thou  the  cruelty  to  hold  thy  tongue 
When  speaking  would  have  saved  one  woman's  life; 
And  now  the  cruelty  to  wag  thy  tongue 
When  speaking  kills  another?  Look  to  the  queen. 

(The  Queen  is  hanging  between  Wolfram  and  Gas- 
ton,  almost  in  a  faint.  While  continuing  to  support 
her,  Wolfram  addresses  the  Court.) 

Wolfram.  Let  him  go  on,  my  lord;  it  is  a  vow. 
This  is  the  breaking  of  a  life-long  cloud, 
That  blinds  us  with  its  downpour  of  black  filth, 
To  leave  the  stars  behind.  Let  him  go  on! 
Nor  are  we,  in  this  clap,  less  ignorant 
Than  in  the  daily  blindness  of  all  life. 
I  charge  me  with  the  safety  of  the  queen. 
I  am  her  son,  and  know  her.  Let  him  speak. 

JEgidius.  A  son  as  mad,  though  in  a  different  vein, 
As  his  sick  father.  Youngster,  dost  thou  know — 
Dost  thou  not  understand — that  his  confession 
Makes  thee  a  bastard? 

Wolfram.  Prince  ^Egidius, 

Thy  function  here  is  to  adjudicate, 
Not  to  advise,  though  wisely.  For  my  birth, 
I  care  no  more  if  it  be  base  or  noble 
[80] 


ACT  THIRD 

Than  if  my  mantle  rustle  in  the  wind — 
Save  as  it  touch  this  lady ;  and  for  her 
God  has  his  shield. 

Arnolfo  (to  the  Court).  I  will  interrogate 
The  doctor  on  the  king's  insanity, 
Under  the  court's  instruction.  Doctor  Hincmar, 
Is  the  king's  malady  somewhat  of  the  brain  ? 

Hincmar.  It  is,  my  lord,  't  were  useless  to  deny, 
A  brain-sick  weakness;  but  I  cannot  say 
Reaches  insanity.  He  has  himself 
Writ  and  subscribed  a  competent  confession, 
Which,  as  I  understand,  he  will  submit. 

King  (handing  a  document).  This  is  my  testimony. 

Arnolfo.  We  protest! 

Your  honour  must  not  take  the  madman's  screed. 

JEgidius.  I  take  it  subject  to  his  sanity; 
Which,  for  the  honour  that  I  owe  mankind, 
I  '11  not  believe  in. 

(Clerk  takes  and  marks  the  document.) 

Brevarius.  May  it  please  the  court: 

The  ruling  of  your  lordship  as  to  proof — 
Order  of  proof  I  mean — being  satisfied, 
We  will  proceed  to  call  our  witnesses. 
Clerk,  swear  the  witness. 

(The  Clerk  does  so  in  dumb-show.) 
[  81   ] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Pharamond  (aside).  This  is  a  dreadful  day  of  baf 
fling  hopes, 

That  wear  the  spirit  to  a  dead  fatigue. 
Can  our  case  rise  again  from  such  a  blow? 
Yet  Wolfram  glares  in  triumph. 

JEgidius.  (To  Witness.)  Speak  louder!  (To  Clerk.) 
What's  her  name? 

(Makes  a  memorandum.) 

Clerk.  Anna  Maria  Schmiede,  servant  at  the  convent. 

JEgidius.  Best  repeat  her  words. 

She  is  too  old,  and  cannot  more  than  whisper. 

Clerk  (listens  and  repeats  in  detached  phrases).  In 
May,  1101,  was  scrub-woman  at  the  Convent  of  Saint 
Cyrilla,  five  miles  from  Augsburg.  On  May  nineteenth 
Eva  Adelaide  Meisterthaler  came  to  convent  for  suc 
cour  and  protection;  and  five  days  later  there  gave 
birth  to  a  child,  a  boy.  The  woman  Adelaide  had  no 
possessions  except  a  crucifix,  before  which  she  prayed 
constantly.  The  crucifix  was  marked  with  her  initials 
E.  A.  M.  She  died  on  May  thirtieth.  On  the  following 
day  both  child  and  crucifix  disappeared;  as  did  also 
one  of  the  sisters,  Felicia  Augusta.  No  pursuit  was 
made. 

(During  the  following  soliloquy  of  the  Queen,  the 
taking-  of  testimony  proceeds  in  dumb-show  in  the 
[82] 


ACT  THIRD 

background  and  absorbs  the  attention  of  the  other 
persons  on  the  stage.) 

Queen.  'T  is  sure  my  husband  knew  not  of  its  birth. 

(She  glances  at  the  King,  who  has  fallen  on  his  knees.) 
And  with  it  disappeared  the  crucifix. 
Her  cross,  her  child, — and  she  his  lawful  wife! 

0  thou  poor  German  girl  that  died'st  alone, 
Holding  the  key  that  might  have  made  thee  proud, 
And  using  it  to  unlock  the  heart  of  God, 

Across  the  years  thy  spirit  beckons  me. 
Thy  bark  was  wrecked,  thy  garden  desolate, 
Thy  child  disherited ;  and,  in  a  night, 
Injustice  in  my  form  supplanted  thee. 
Some  women  for  their  child  will  venture  all, 
To  press  his  claim ;  but  thou,  more  rich  in  faith, 
Sendest  thy  treasure  to  thine  enemy. 

1  '11  not  betray  thee !  Though  my  pain  be  sharp, 
It  is  but  younger  sister  unto  thine. 

Two  children  were  there, — one  to  be  a  king, 
And  one  a  castaway.  O  cruel  maid! 
Thy  speechlessness  doth  call  the  earthquake  up, 
And  God  hath  heard  thee.  Lo,  I  lay  my  boy 
Upon  the  altar. 

(To  Gaston.)  Gaston,  give  me  leave: — 
Fetch  me  thy  crucifix.  That  other  maid, 
[83] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

That  sent  it  me,  minds  me  to  look  on  it. 

[Exit  Gaston. 

I  cannot  guess  what  passes  in  his  mind, 
Which  ever  seems  a  mirror  to  the  truth 
First  seen  by  others;  yet  he  must  be  dull 
If  he  not  feels  the  surge. 

Enter  Gaston. 

Dear  Gaston,  think — 

But  speak  not  yet.  Besides  thyself  and  me, 

Two  persons  in  this  room  do  know  this  cross, — 

Thy  father  and  the  aged  sister  there. 

I  must  produce  it.  Gaston,  tell  the  court 

That  I  must  speak. 

Gaston.  The  queen,  my  lord,  would  speak. 
jEgidiits.  Let  her  be  heard 

Queen.  Pardon,  grave  sirs,  if  with  the  utterance 

Of  one  too  nearly  touched  to  tell  her  tale, 

I  give  what  all  of  ye  must  know  at  once. 

It  is  the  key  and  cipher  of  four  lives, 

Delivered  to  you  by  the  hand  of  God. 

In  my  first  weeks  of  marriage  with  the  king 

My  servants  found  before  the  castle  gates 

A  cradled  ark  of  osier  newly  twined, 

Holding  in  its  green  arms  a  smiling  boy 

[  84] 


ACT  THIRD 

And  a  sad  crucifix;  with  some  few  words, 
Such  as  a  dying  mother  might  have  scratched, 
To  supplicate  the  pity  of  the  world. 
I,  in  my  hope  for  children  of  my  own, 
Took  the  newcomer  as  their  messenger; 
Accepted,  cherished,  loved  him  as  my  son, 
Nor  ever  found  he  was  not  more  than  mine. 
Most  of  ye  know  him. — Prince  ^Egidius, 
This  is  the  crucifix,  and  this — the  child. 

(She  sinks  into  a  chair;  and  soon  after  breaks  into 
uncontrollable  sobbing.  Amidst  the  stir  which  fol 
lows  her  announcement  she  is  not  greatly  noticed,  till 
Wolfram  addresses  her.  During  her  grief,  Hedwig 
goes  and  kneels  by  her  side.) 

Wolfram.  Thy  thunderbolt  at  last!  How  comes  it 

down, 

In  the  clear  passage  of  benignant  light. 
Was  this  the  thing  ye  feared?  Why,  this  is  joy! — 
The  resolution  of  a  thousand  ills. 
Gaston,  thou  art  this  kingdom's  lawful  king; 
As  thou  hast  been  in  all  these  years  a  prince, 
And  kingly  spirit  moving  in  our  midst, 
Half  known.  Some  men  are  made  to  rule ; 
And  these  must  never  isolate  their  mind, 
But  merge  it  in  the  sentient  soul  of  all. 

[85] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

So  art  thou  chosen  out  by  Destiny 
To  save  this  state  from  me.  Did  I  not  say 
The  whirlwind  could  resume  its  upward  force, 
Restoring  order  in  those  starry  depths, 
From  which  our  souls  are  fed  continually 
In  the  en  wheeled  motion  of  the  sky? 

Gaston.  Ay,  thou  didst  say  as  much,  I  make  no 
doubt. 

Wolfram.  Lo,  now  the  meek  inherit,  and  a  child 
Upsets  the  shrewdest  guess  of  politics. 
The  lost  maid's  legacy  doth  save  us  all, — 
The  cry  of  a  frail  saint  whose  thread  of  life 
Was  soon  and  rudely  snapped;  yet  on  her  will, 
As  on  its  axis,  turns  our  history. 
Mother,  thy  Gaston  waits  to  comfort  thee. 
We  owe  him  much,  but  chiefly  my  release. 
Thou  couldst  not,  mother,  make  a  king  of  me, 
Nor  keep  him  from  his  own.  We  all  are  planets, 
Which  live  within  each  other's  influence, 
Controlled,  protected,  passing  to  eclipse, 
Or  reappearing  in  the  effulgent  sun 
Through  the  same  power,  which  by  our  apprehension 
Becomes  ourself.  And  if  a  man  will  trust  it, 
I  give  him  leave  to  call  it  what  he  will, — 
Love,  thought,  illusion,  destiny,  or  God. 
[86] 


ACT  THIRD 

Gaston,  the  crown  is  thine. 

Gaston.  I  would  not  take  it,  were  it  the  crown  o' 

the  world, 
So  springing  from  the  ruin  of  this  house !  Think  you, 

my  lord, 

I  will  not  follow  in  adversity 
Those  who  befriend  the  outcast?  I  have  had 
The  love,  the  education,  all  the  share 
A  child  might  take  beneath  his  father's  roof. 
And  if  ye  fall,  I  count  my  share  in  the  loss 
As  so  much  gain. 

Wolfram.  Gaston,  didst  thou  not  swear, 

If  ever  God  should  give  the  countersign, 
To  rip  the  mask  from  off  the  face  of  life 
And  show  the  features?  Thou  didst  vow  thine  aid 
In  this  contingency.  And,  brother,  think  you 
Thy  share  of  this  inheritance  was  small 
Even  from  the  beginning?  Come,  thou  art  the  king. 
Thou  art  the  house,  the  royal  family, 
And  all  that  thou  hast  taken  was  thine  own. 
(To  jEgidius.)  Is  not  this  law,  my  lord,  or  can  his 

will 
Affect  his  birthright? 

JEgidins.  If  he  be  the  heir, 

He  must  inherit.  His  consent  is  null. 

[87  ] 


THE   MAID'S   FORGIVENESS 

Which  of  us  hath  consented  to  be  born, 
Or  was  not  unconsenting  thrust  on  life, 
On  law,  on  title,  on  identity? — 
Which  here  is  all  the  question. 

Gaston.  I  am  bound. 

Wolfram,  I  fear  I  never  so  can  shield  thee 
As  thou  hast  shielded  me — 

Wolfram.  'T is  not  my  need; 

But  be  content.  Thou  givest  me  my  need, 
And  that  thou  knowest.  (To  Elfrida,  who  has  come 
forward.)  Would'st  thou  speak  to  me? 

Elfrida.  I  have,  my  lord,  a  suit;  'tis  a  petition, 
Long  carried  in  my  heart,  though  something  strange, 
And  one,  perhaps,  a  maid  is  slow  to  press. 
Yet  are  these  happenings  so  extraordinary 
That  my  strange  conduct  suits  them:  judge  yourself. 

Wolfram.  Make  all  petitions  to  your  lawful  king, 
Who  stands  to  weigh  them.  I  am  servant  here, 
And  can  but  introduce  you. 

Elfrida.  Nay,  my  lord, 

He  has  refused  me. 

Gaston  (to  Elfrida).  What  dost  thou  begin  ? 
Is  this  the  season  for  an  ill-timed  jest? 

Wolfram.  Nay,  let  her  speak.  I  do  accept  the  suit, 

[88] 


ACT  THIRD 

And  promise  my  assistance  with  the  king. 

Elfrida.  My  lord,  ye  all  have  seen  his  constancy; 
And  know  the  abnegation  in  his  soul, 
Which  even  now  has  glanced  a  crystal  shaft 
Across  us  all.  I  will  not  call  it  cold, 
But  of  a  superhuman  purity, 
Most  hard  to  deal  with. 

Gaston.  In  Heaven's  name,  Elfrida! 

Wolfram.  Gaston,  hush! 
Let  the  petitioner  finish. 

Elfrida.  Think,  my  lord, 

What  had  you  done  to  make  him  be  your  king, 
Had  not  the  arm  of  law  been  on  your  side  ? 

Wolfram.  'T  is  true :  he  is  a  rebel.  But  speak  on. 

Elfrida.  And  kingship  was  a  thing  he  never  craved. 

Wolfram.  And  had  he  craved  it,  would  have  put  it 

off 

With  twice  the  resolution  to  be  cross 
And  spoil  the  music.  Thou  hast  fathomed  him. 
Elfrida,  thou  dost  understand  this  man. 

Elfrida.  And — Wolfram — me — he  wants. 

Wolfram  (looks from  one  to  the  other).  Thou  noble 

creature!  Gaston,  to  your  knees, 
And  thank  the  Lord  for  sending  you  a  wife 

[89] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 
So  like  you,  yet  with  greater  brain  behind. 
Such  virgin  power  doth  stalk  about  the  world; 
But  we  forget  it,  till  some  Deborah 
Makes  men  look  small.  My  mother,  you  must  add 
Your  blessing  to  the  contract.  This  event 
Much  sanctifies  the  issues  of  the  day, 
And  makes  them  perfect. 

Queen.  Gaston  and  Elfrida, 

I  give  you  both,  all  that  is  left  in  me 
Of  blessing  and  of  joy. 

Wolfram  (to  JEgidius).  My  lord,  ye  judges  sit  to 

catch  the  truth. 

Here  comes  it  by  the  handful.  Let  your  clerks 
Reduce  these  mysteries  to  documents, 
And  stamp  them  with  the  seals  of  earthly  note. 
We  thank  you  for  your  labour.  And,  ^Egidius, 
I  thank  you  for  your  kind  and  noble  soul 
That  gave  truth  passage. 

Mgidius.  T  is  indeed 

The  immediate  work  of  God,  and  Him  I  thank 
That  these  dim  eyes  have  lived  to  witness  it. 
Old  king,  embrace  thy  son.  Tis  something  late — 
Yet  not  too  late — to  greet  thine  eldest  born. 

(Gaston  kneels  before  the  old  King.) 

Wolfram.  Father,  take  heart;  it  is  predestinate, 
[90] 


ACT  THIRD 

And  should  be  thus.  Thou  gavest  me  thy  word, 
And  hast  performed  it. 

King.  Hardly  do  I  hold 

The  thread  of  reason.  Yet  within  a  mist, 
Following  a  light,  I  must  one  further  step, 
Though  it  exhaust  your  patience.  Noble  sir, 

(To  ^Egidius.) 

This  boy  I  do  acknowledge  as  my  son, 
In  such  abjection  as  befits  a  soul 
Finished  with  earth.  And  in  your  hands  I  place 
My  abdication,  late  determined  on, 
And  blessed  in  the  event. 

Arnolfo  (to  the  Court).  This  falls  within 
The  scope  of  your  commission.  Please  the  court 
We  do  accept  it. 

Pharamond  (aside).  Those  most  cunning  knaves 
Who  planned  the  case  have  overreached  themselves. 
This  abdication  makes  the  state  secure. 
But  for  themselves  remains  no  punishment? 
(To  Wolfram.} 

Wolfram,  beseech  you,  get  me  the  court's  ear 
For  but  two  words;  that  I  may  tell  the  plot 
Between  this  villain  Hincmar  and  the  rest, 
And  set  afoot  some  vengeance  for  the  crime. 

(During  Pharamond' 's  speech  Hincmar  is  seen  to 
[91] 


THE  MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

beckon  to  Martin  and  then  speak  to  him.  Martin  has 
quietly  slipped  out;  and  Hildebrand,  observing  him, 
has  quietly  gone  out  by  another  door  on  the  same 
side  of  the  stage.) 

Wolfram.  Peace,  Pharamond;  or  else  address  the 

king. 

But  if  my  counsel  shall  be  sought  therein, 
I  '11  say  we  are  as  much  in  debt  to  Satan, 
Being  God's  agent,  as  to  you  or  me, 
That  helped  unroll  our  story.  See  you  not 
That  this  magician  with  his  heartless  schemes, 
Setting  false  lights  upon  a  dangerous  coast, 
Has  brought  our  ship  to  shore?  I  greatly  thank  him. 
The  greatest  villains  ever  go  scot-free 
Because  men  cannot  catch  them ;  't  is  a  sign 
That  we  do  wrong  to  punish  lesser  men. 
T  is  not  within  our  duty.  Peace,  I  say. 
This  wretch  will  bring  his  own  destruction  on 
Ere  we  can  plot  it. 

Enter  Hildebrand,  dragging  in  Martin. 

Hildebrand.  Help,  help,  King  Gaston !  If  ye  will  not 
all  be  burned  in  your  beds !  This  fire-bug  will  roast 
ye  to  cinders. 

Gaston.  What  is  it,  Hildebrand? 

Hildebrand.  I  found  him  setting  fire  to  all  parts  and 
[92] 


ACT  THIRD 

corners  of  the  philosopher's  room.  Run,  some  of  ye, 
and  see  that  it  is  out ;  for  the  papers  were  in  a  bright 
blaze  before  I  could  reach  him.  I  did  only  trample 
them  out,  and  ran  back  for  fear  the  he  devil  should 
escape  while  his  black  angel  was  burning  ye. 
Gaston.  Run,  some  of  you,  and  put  the  fire  out. 

[Exeunt  Servants. 

Hincmar.  It  is  but  private  rubbish,  good  my  lord. 
I  bid  the  boy  destroy  it. 

Gaston.  Ah,  you  did! 

Oswald,  arrest  the  miscreant  traitor  there 
Who  would  destroy  the  proofs  of  his  dark  work ; 
And,  Otto,  run  to  save  each  several  scrap, 
Which  being  pieced  together  and  well  conned, 
Together  with  the  intercepted  note, 
Haply  shall  form  a  halter  for  his  neck. 
Why,  we  forgot  thee,  miserable  man! 
We  thought  there  was  some  fire  behind  thy  smoke. 
Now  we  shall  know. 

Pharamond.  Long  live  King  Gaston ! 

AIL  Long  live  King  Gaston ! 

Wolfram.  Mother,  Prince  ^Egidius 
Waits  to  receive  new  welcome  at  our  hands. 
Friends,  comrades,  brothers,  let  us  once  again 

[93] 


THE   MAID'S  FORGIVENESS 

Lock  hearts  together  in  a  long  embrace, 
And  stand  brimful  of  joy  to  bless  this  day 
That  brings  to  each  its  own,  — the  land  a  king, 
The  queen  a  son,  and  me  deliverance. 
Then  must  I  leave  you;  for  my  sail  is  set, 
My  prow  is  thirsty  for  the  larger  sea, 
And  tugs  the  cable.  I  will  drink  a  cup 
Of  Godspeed  to  you  all,  reach  down  the  sword 
My  father  carried  in  the  great  Crusade, 
And  go  to  find  my  kingdom. 


THE  END 


Tours,  January,  1908. 


NOTE 

This  play  is  designed  for  a  small  theatre  ivith 
very  simple  accessories,  and  for  rapid  and  natu 
ral  acting,  like  the  acting  seen  in  Italian  theatres. 
If  the  play  were  to  be  given  in  a  large  theatre  or 
elaborately  staged,  Act  I  would  probably  have  to 
be  divided  into  two  acts  by  a  pause  after  Scene  II. 


